To Prevent War in Wonderland
by PunkPirateUK
Summary: On the brink of an all out war between Spades and Clubs, the King of Spades accepts a proposal to prevent the war all together: spend his life in the house of Clubs as a sign of peace between the two countries. RusAme, Spamano, GerIta, PruAus, and others.
1. Before the Dawn

**T.T Okay, so I totally couldn't get this idea out of my head. I apologize for taking so long to put out another story of some sort, but I intend to alternate between this one and my other one until they're done. Anyway~ Off we go.**

**Oh! Wait. If you've never read anything about the cardverse, you might want to have a look at this stuff before you read on:**

**Diamonds, Spades, Clubs, and Hearts are ruled by a trio (a king, queen, and jack). These are just titles and they don't have anything to do with gender, etc. In this story, the royals are chosen instead of born into the roles. I'll add in some definitions and stuff at the bottom of the page if you want to check them out; those will be more story specific, though.**

**Nope, I don't own Hetalia.**

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><p>Shining, polished black loafers thudded haphazardly against the ground in an overly repetitive motion. The grand blue chambers of the Spades throne room thundered with the noise in a relatively quiet sign that something in the kingdom of blue was seriously off.<p>

_Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. _Pause. Turn. _Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. _Repeat.

Directly across from the door, on the opposite side of the large chamber, sat three ornate thrones, the tallest of which sat in the middle with the other two one either side. The Jack of Spades was seated in the throne to the left, his arms folded within the baggy sleeves of his ornate blue clothing, his posture straight and cultured. His black hair was regally tied off over one shoulder with the silk-like strands falling to an almost-curl at the very bottom. His wise, dark eyes watched the pacing figure cross the royal blue rug that led from the door up to the steps and platform that housed the thrones for the fifth time in the past minute (royalty in Spades were as intimately connected to time as they were to magic so the Jack's measure was quite precise). His expression stayed carefully neutral and thoughtful as he watched the blue-suited man turn to cross the rug once again.

The Queen of Spades watched with irritated eyes that, on any other day, would shine like emeralds from his seat to the right of the vacated middle throne. While the Queen's clothes were less exotic than the Jack's in design, they were no less regal and no less blue. The pale hand of the Queen swept absently through a mop of messy blonde hair (by the Jack's count that was the third time in the past two minutes). Well cared for black shoes tapped irritably against the ground in an absent chorus with the steps of the pacing figure below the thrones. Thick brows were drawn together as the commander of Spade's armies (the duty of any Spade Queen) scowled more so at the future connected to the pacing man than the man himself.

The pacing man, a subconscious metronome in his own right, reached the wall adjacent to the wall hosting the thrones before turning to make another round to the opposite wall. When he came across the blue rug once again, that was all the Queen could take.

"_Alfred_," the Spade Queen snapped, finally bringing a halt to the King's pacing. Sapphire-colored eyes as blue as the décor around them framed by thin wire frames snapped up from the floor to meet the Queen's scowl.

The King of Spades was a fairly tall man with a build that was a bit more study in comparison to the more slender versions of his fellow royals. While he was, indeed, one of the most important figures in their country, his clothing was much plainer than the Jack or Queen as a result of a long list of his tendency to ruin nice clothing with his often exuberant stunts. His blonde hair was fairly straight and orderly save the single, almost ridiculous, cowlick that rested at the part in the front. His usually cheerful expression was pulled tight with stress and anxiety that generally never showed on the King's features.

"I can't do this Artie," the Spade king, Alfred, responded with the words that seemed so wrong escaping the lips of the man whom the common people had dubbed their hero.

Arthur, the Queen of Spades, felt his eyes widen. In yet another rare show, his emerald eyes softened in sync with the pang in his chest. "Then don't do it," he reasoned, "It was a bloody mad idea in the first place; no one will blame you if you decide not to go through with it."

The King bit at his lip in thought. He quickly shook his head, his decision already made weeks ago. "I have to," he decided, his resolution sounding clear in his voice. A spark of his usual confidence and conviction relit the fire that generally burned behind those sapphire eyes.

Having seen that look before, the Queen's emerald eyes narrowed considerably to dangerous slits. That was not the response Arthur had been hoping for; he wanted nothing more than to bush this nonsense aside and get on with the preparations for war with Clubs. Knowing that the King would not be easy to move at that point, Arthur turned to the previously silent Jack, "Yao, tell him this is his most ludicrous scheme yet!"

The dark-haired man eyed the King's expression before turning his head to do the same with the Queen's. "If Alfred backs out now, war with Clubs is inevitable, aru," he countered once he was done gauging the reactions of the other two monarchs, "This would be an insult that even Alfred could not talk his way out of."

"And you think that he's not going to insult Clubs while he's there?" Arthur demanded, leering down at the seated Jack.

The blonde King made an offended expression, "Hey! I can be nice when I wanna."

Arthur tore his leer from Yao and returned it to Alfred, "Not to a Club, you can't." The King of blue opened his mouth to retort but promptly shut it: what was the point in arguing the truth? Satisfied that he'd made his point to Alfred, Arthur returned to his argument with Yao, "It's war either way; shouldn't we have our King where we at least know that he's safe instead of where he can be used as a hostage if they betray us?"

Yao seemed to consider this for a moment. While the Jack debated, Alfred quickly climbed the stairs to the platform hosting the thrones with a practiced skill. He took hold of the shorter blonde's forearms and smiled brilliantly, "Glad to know all this crankiness is about you being worried about me. Don't worry, though; I'll be fine. I'm not too easy to take down, you know."

On any other day, Arthur would have argued loudly and denied that he cared what happened to the young King. Today, however, was not a normal day. The King of Spades and the King of Clubs had made a deal to avoid war: the King of Spades was to live in the house of Clubs until Clubs called off the deal, which was unlikely since it kept Spades considerably weakened. It was a sign of "good faith" between them. Arthur knew the truth behind the careful language; the Spade king was to be a virtual prisoner in exchange for the avoidance of a war that would rip Spades apart. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought of the boy he'd practically raised being anything but free. "Stupid git," he muttered, carefully avoiding the young King's blue eyes.

A quark of Alfred's lips formed an amused expression that he wasn't sure he really felt at the moment, "There's the Artie I know." He let go of the Queen's arms and took a step back to address his Jack. "Yao, d'ya really think they'll go back on their word? 'Cause that's totally not noble," he questioned.

Yao, who had been pondering the question since Arthur had raised it, shook his head with a certain gravity. "No, I do not think so," he answered, "Killing you or holding you hostage would be a breach of the bargain; it would give Diamonds and Hearts the excuse they need to turn against Clubs in war."

Alfred nodded and Arthur looked at the ground, away from the other two members of the royal family. Yao's point was quite valid, of course; the King of Hearts had been waiting for years for a politically sound excuse to attack the King of Clubs for a reason the Spade court could only imagine was a personal matter. While Clubs was strong, literally taking on the rest of the world was simply something none of the four nations could even hope to do alone. Well… save the mystical Jokers, but they had explicitly been cursed to isolation on their prison-like island, never to be found by any mortal being and never to escape centuries ago. Some even speculated that the Jokers never existed in the first place. Alfred might have assumed the same thing if he hadn't seen the ruins of their once mighty empire all across the land of Spades. It was no secret that the Spade king made a hobby of archeology.

"This is still rubbish," Arthur hissed quietly, his fists clinched as he raised his eyes back to Alfred, "If you're intent on getting yourself killed, I'll have you know that I will take no part in it. Goodnight, Alfred, and goodbye."

The Queen of Spades rushed from the throne room that was otherwise empty save for the Jack and King in a fury of blue robes and the stomping of polished shoes.

"Good ole Artie," Alfred laughed softly, collapsing in his cushioned blue and gold throne, "He'll see me off anyway." The King looked up at the high roof covered in lavish murals depicting the rise of the Kingdom of Spades after tearing itself from Joker occupation. He folded his hands over his stomach as he slouched on the large throne he would sit in only once more.

The Jack's dark eyes watched the young King, softening a significant degree. They all three had their disagreements, and their differences were many, but the Jack had seen both of his fellow monarchs grow into the men that were hailed as the greatest King and Queen Spades had known since the very beginning of their country along with their wise and well-loved Jack; the three of them had braved many storms together, war and a love of the people binding them together as tightly as a blood-related family. "We are simply worried for you, aru," he pointed out what Arthur would not admit.

Alfred nodded once with a distant smile, "Yeah, I know." He still hadn't taken his gaze from the very first King of Spades pictured on the roof. The regal man held high the blue flag that bore the symbol and namesake of their country in one hand and an ornate golden blade in the other. "I'm gonna miss your cookin', dude," he teased Yao, finally setting his eyes back on Yao.

Yao let out a snort of laughter while a soft smile graced his lips, "I suppose I could send something by way of an ambassador."

Alfred's eyes lit up and he whirled around in his seat to face his Jack more directly, "Seriously? Dude, that'd be the best gift ever! Just… don't let Artie help, okay?" His nose scrunched up a fraction as he thought back to Arthur's last meal. He'd forced it down because he realized the shorter blonde had done it because Alfred was set to leave soon, but he'd just gotten over the four-day illness he'd picked up from the food.

Yao's smile widened and he nodded, "Of course I won't; he wastes too much food."

Alfred laughed for the first time in a day and leaned back against his throne. The Jack stood up after a moment of silence. "Goin' to bed?" Alfred asked.

Yao nodded, "It's getting late. You should be going to sleep as well; it will be a long day."

Alfred's smile faded down to a ghost of what it had been. "Nah, I think I'm gonna stay up for a little bit." Yao gave him a sympathetic look before nodding and heading out of the deserted throne room, leaving the King to his thoughts.

Alone in the empty room, Alfred propped one of his ankles up on the opposite knee and interlocked his hands behind his head. His eyes flicked back up to the depiction of the former Spade King on the roof. He didn't sleep that night. Instead, he stayed awake, his eyes locked on the picture of hours, wondering if leaving the Yao and Arthur without an integral part of the government (leaving the people weak without their king) was really the best course of action. He knew the answer as soon as he asked the question: without his agreement to the proposal, war would break out and Spades would fall.

That still didn't stop him from asking it over and over again.

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><p>The throne room of Spades was abuzz with a roar of the combined multitude of whispers. While the throne room had been decorated as though there was to be a celebration, no one was celebrating. No hint of cheer showed on the face of a citizen wearing blue. This would be their last time seeing or hearing from their King. Not to mention the rumors that life in Clubs changed a person and rarely for the best. They feared for their cheerful and kind-hearted King, feared that he would come home a shadow of his former self.<p>

None feared more than the Jack and Queen, the latter of which was absent from the trio of thrones which seated the royal family. Many citizens found it odd to watch their King glance at the empty throne at his right for the absent Queen. They could see it in his actions: Alfred was nervous and jumpy. The lack of the magic-wielding monarch only made it worse.

Alfred shifted on his throne for the sixth time in the past five minutes. He shot Yao a confused look, silently asking when Arthur was. The dark-haired Jack simply shook his head, having no idea. Instead of his usual plain clothes, Alfred had been coerced into wearing the full garb befitting any other King of Spades, making him even more irritable. He pulled gently at his shirt collar before running a hand through his hair.

He'd never actually met the King of Clubs. The two countries had been at the brink of war since Alfred was a small child living in a tiny, almost unknown village with his mother and brother. When the new king had been crowned, he'd become a secretive creature as far as Spades was concerned. Information on the man was almost impossible to find. All Alfred had been able to uncover was that the King of Clubs should be roughly around his age and absolutely terrifying (that was really encouraging, he'd scoffed). His rather active imagination had filled in the details, and that man was one his way, through the streets of Spades, to the castle to retrieve his end on the bargain.

When a familiar voice shouted overtop of the crowd, Alfred felt relief surge throughout his entire being like water over a burn. His blue eyes shifted towards the source of the sound. The Queen of Spades was forcing his way through the crowd that didn't part fast enough for the blonde's tastes. Once the Queen was before his throne, he straightened his clothes before taking his seat.

Alfred shot Arthur a bright smile, "I thought you really weren't comin' for a minute there."

Arthur scoffed without looking at Alfred. The latter noticed the Queen's hands were clutching the arm rests of the throne, nails digging painfully into the gold-colored metal that was sure to hold up longer than human nails. "What do you think I am? Heartless?" the Queen hissed.

"Never," Alfred teased, feeling much more at home than he had before, "Well… maybe just a little bit."

The Queen threw something at Alfred's lap. For a minute, Alfred assumed it was just something random the Queen had in his pocket to pelt at the King. When he saw the spade-shaped charm on a silver-link necklace, he knew otherwise. He slipped it over his head, allowing the black charm to hang proudly over his blue clothes. "It's enchanted for luck," Arthur explained, his fingers digging even harder at the throne, a sure sign of his rage and inability to change the situation, "Knowing your stupidity, you'll need all of the luck you can find."

Alfred's smile brightened, "Thanks, Artie; you're the best."

Arthur frowned deeply, still not looking at the young King. "If I don't hear from you Alfred, I'm going to war. Do you hear me?" he warned gravely.

"Stop worrying. I'm not a little kid anymore, Artie," Alfred pointed out, "I can take care of myself just like I can protect both of you and the kingdom; that's my job as King of Spades."

Arthur sighed heavily, but a hint of a smirk touched his lips, "I know, git."

Alfred was about to comment when he heard the large, grand oak doors of the throne room open. Silence suffocated the room as everyone watched to catch a glimpse at the mysterious King of Clubs. Alfred felt his heart beating in his skull and a numb tingling spread through his digits. His blue eyes watched the door from behind thin wire frames, subconsciously leaning forward in his seat as he did when he was watching a rare play that he really got into.

_Click, click, click, click_. The thick shoes hit neatly against the floor in a staccato beat. For a fraction of a minute, Alfred's mind was too anxious to process the man before the assembly of Spades. The first thing he noticed was the mass of green, black, and pale yellow-green that made up the man's clothes (a bit too thick of the usually temperate weather in Spades). As soon as he made it passed the green, his blue eyes fell on the man's face where a small, almost innocent smile rested. A head of pale blonde hair framed the King's face and a small green hat rested off to the side. Before Alfred regained feeling in his limbs, violet eyes were watching him curiously from the bottom step of the six stone steps that led to the thrones of Spades. Alfred leaned back in his throne as though that would suddenly keep him from having to leave. He wasn't afraid of the King; no, seeing him made all of it real. He was going to leave the only home he'd ever known and go to a land, as he'd heard, of nightmares.

Yao was the first to move, efficient as always and less governed by emotions than his fellow monarchs. "Welcome, King Ivan Braginski of Clubs, to the royal court of Spades," he greeted formally even if there was a narrowed look to his eyes.

The small smile on the foreign monarch's face didn't budge. Instead, he lifted a hand and waved shortly as though he were greeting an old friend. Alfred bit down hard on his lip as he started to leer in order to keep from growling. Did he think this was a joke? "Good morning," the Club king spoke in a heavily accented voice, "You didn't need to go to this trouble for me."

"It's not for you," Arthur hissed from Alfred's right.

Sensing the oncoming conflict, Alfred stood to his full height, his military-like tailcoat straightening out with the motion. The usual warm and friendly smile his people were used to seeing at court was gone, replaced with a heavy frown that was only a step away from a leer. "Take care of Artie, Yao," the Spade king instructed without looking back.

"I will," Yao promised quietly.

Arthur was on his feet next, latching onto the younger blonde's violet cloak. It was only then that Alfred tore his gaze from the foreign monarch. "Artie?" he questioned, turning to face the older man who had raised him into the king he was.

Conflict was written across Arthur's face: give up Alfred or risk the kingdom. For a moment, Alfred was almost afraid he'd pick the first option. When a painfully forced smile appeared on the Queen's lips, Alfred knew it would be alright. Not caring that the people were watching or that the other king was standing several feet away, Alfred pulled his Jack and Queen into a tight embrace that said what they would not allow their words to speak.

_Goodbye._

Arthur latched on almost immediately while Yao was a bit more hesitant but still gave in. Alfred let go a few minutes later and took a step back. He gave them a military-style salute and a playful smile (his forced smiles were much harder to catch than Arthur's) before turning his back on them, the past, to face what was to be his future. "Let's get this over with," he muttered, descending the stairs of the Spades thrones for what was likely to be the last time.

Ivan's smile widened, but something seemingly dangerous glinted in those violet eyes that sent an invisible shiver down the Spade king's spine. Standing face-to-face without the height separation of the platform or throne in the way, they were sizing each other up. Alfred frowned as he realized that, while he wasn't exactly short, he had to look up to catch the eyes of the taller monarch. Not to mention that that smile really bugged him, and he had no idea why.

Something in Ivan's eyes shifted, and Alfred couldn't tell what. "We should be going now," the taller blonde announced, "Clubs could go into a murderous riot without me, and we wouldn't want that, da?" Alfred knew that he was looking at Ivan as though he were watching one of those weird things in the museums he liked to frequent, but he couldn't tell if that was meant to be a joke or if it was the truth.

Before he could asked, Ivan turned his back and began marching right out of the throne room, leaving Alfred with one of the greatest, in his opinion, insults he could; the King of Spades was going to have to leave, of his own free will, his people and his fellow monarchs to follow after the king of their most bitter rivals.

With each step towards the door, Alfred began to hate the green-clad back in front of him that much more. He had to vent his hatred at the other man. If he didn't, all of that anger would be directed at himself for going along with it.

If he'd turned around to look behind him, he would have seen Arthur collapse into his throne with the weight of the responsibilities of both King and Queen of Spades as well as that of losing a little brother for the second time in his relatively young life (even though this lose was not to the eternity of death, in his mind, Arthur would likely never see the young king again). He would have seen Yao close his eyes in a moment of silence, hoping quietly for the young king's safety. He would have seen a whole kingdom morning the loss of its king.

As it was, all Alfred could see at the moment was the sea that isolated Spades from the rest of the world; it was the decorated warship in the harbor that would take him from Spades to a new life in Clubs. And all Alfred could think about was how, when he stepped on board the wooden vessel, he felt as though there were shackles closing around his ankles.

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><p><strong>Whew. Glad I got that one out. Like I said, I plan to continue this one while alternating one uploading chapters in Echoes as well. I hope you guys enjoyed this because I kind of enjoy writing the cardverse~ <strong>

**As an announcement, I **_**am**_** looking for a regular beta, so if anyone is interested, let me know which story it is you'd like to look over, and I'd totally be indebted to you. :3**

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><p><strong>As for story background:<strong>

**Clubs and Spades have been on the brink of war since modernization began which was roughly about eighteen years from the beginning of this story (if you're interested in the parallels I want to history, this story would take place roughly around theend of the Cold War). Each monarchy runs differently, so I'll add notes down here at the bottom for you guys to look at when each monarchy is dealt with in a little depth. *is OCD***

_**Monarchy in Spades**_

**King: Responsible for the final judgment on legal and political matters. The king can be questioned only by the Queen or Jack. After something has been questioned, it goes up for discussion between the King, Queen, and Jack and majority rules. On matters of the economy, the king can only question the Jack; the king can't formally suggest anything in that area. Kings of Spades are notorious for their physical fighting prowess. Each king has traditionally been instructed in the art of swordplay since their choosing.**

**Queen: Responsible for the military and also able to suggest propositions in the political and legal realm. The Queen is the only person in Spades with the ability to declare war (though either the Jack or the King must second the motion). The Queen can question any resolution from the King, but generally doesn't deal with matters from the Jack. The Queen of Spades has always been a magician of some caliber up until the current Queen who, though having an enormous capacity for magic, cannot seem to control the spells he casts.**

**Jack: Responsible for the matters of the economy, both foreign and domestic, and for the castle's royal guard. The Jack can question any resolution from the King or Queen and is the only person in the Kingdom that can revoke a resolution that has been passed and in motion for over a year (though, in unison, the King and Queen could re-pass the resolution). Spades Jacks are well-known for their intelligence and insight. **

_**The Kingdom of Spades in General**_

**Also known as 'the Land of Magic,' Spades has the most balanced monarchy of the four major countries (no one knows how the Jokers' Land is governed). The King, Queen, and Jack are able to work both separately and together, and each member of the royal family can effectively check another member. This has prevented, for the most part, tyrannical rulers in Spades. Spades monarchs, unlike other monarchies, are chosen by gathering the youth of the nation before the central in the castle garden when a monarch dies and waiting to see which child will be chosen via magic spells to replace the late monarch.**

**It is a prosperous nation even though it has faced a few severe economic issues during the recent industrialization. It boasts the largest number of magic-wielders of the four countries, making many suspicious that many of the citizens of Spades are either the decedents of Jokers or the decedents of people who were taught by Jokers during their rule since Spades was controlled by the Joker Empire far longer than any other country. **

**Geographically, Spades is a rather large island separated by a rather large expanse of ocean from the other nations. Spade's isolation is another theory for why its people host such a large number or magic-wielders; almost every aspect of Spade culture is founded around the art, and it hasn't changed much since its break from Joker occupation (historically based on both the Isolationism of the US and Great Britian). **

**o.o Wow… I feel like I'm trying to design a roleplay or something. :P **


	2. Journey

**Wow, you guys, thank you for all of the views and alerts~ They make me so happy! A special thank you to Rennasakura, angelstryke, SilverTrain, For Russia with love, XxEvilxX, and artfan for the nice reviews (you all are Prussia-awesome); quite frankly, I'm kind of paranoid about this story now, so it's nice to know that quite a few people liked it. I also altered some of the background information in the first chapter just a bit out of said paranoia; it shouldn't be significant, but if you want, go check that out. Anyway, hopefully this chapter turned out better. T.T *is incredibly paranoid now***

**PS. Constructive criticism is great. I'd just like it to have examples; I can't fix a problem if I don't see it.**

**Just as a little side note… :D I finally got my tapes so I can **_**finally**_** start learning some Russian~ *squees* o.o Must get good enough to pass that test for my school to prove that I can make it in Moscow or St. Petersburg in two years' time…**

**Disclaimer: Hey! Guess what everybody! I still don't own Hetalia… T.T If I did, I wouldn't already be in debt thanks to that lovely institute called college.**

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><p><em>...:... Journey ...:...<em>

The land of Clubs was adjoined to the mainland, boarding both Hearts and Diamonds; of the three nations, Clubs was, by far, the largest nation in existence. For such a vast landmass, it still didn't quite hold the title of the most populated of the four countries; the land of Clubs was a cold land that faced many daily challenges from just the natural elements without even taking into consideration the man-made factors. As a result, the people of Clubs were a strong, practical people; Alfred learned all of this (save for the size of Clubs' territory—he already knew that) during the first week of his journey on the ship.

Since both Kings stepped onto the vessel and Ivan retreated inside the ship, Alfred hadn't even caught a glimpse of the fair-haired man. What was even worse was the fact that he couldn't understand a word of the Club languages, leaving him effectively isolated from most of the crew even if they were standing directly in front of him. On the second day since the ship left the port, Alfred met Toris, the young assistant of the King of Clubs who had, for some reason, offered to keep the Spade King company when he was finished with his work. It was Toris who expanded Alfred's limited knowledge on the kingdom in which he would (likely) be spending the rest of his life. The pair of them generally sat out on the deck of the ship after dinner, talking about nothing in particular to pass the time—one dressed in blue, the other in green.

On the second week of the journey, the pair was conversing in their usual seats with Alfred excitedly explaining several of the myths from Spades behind the constellations when the elusive King of Clubs approached them. While Toris smiled politely and inclined his head, Alfred was too busy pointing up at the particular constellation he was referring to to notice the new presence standing roughly a foot from where he sat or the violet eyes that watched his sporadic arm motions as he concluded with story. From his seat, Toris could see both the amused look in his King's eyes as well as the excited smile on the Spade King's lips as he spoke rapidly but with plenty of emotion.

When he was finished with his story (Toris didn't even bother to count how many times the word "hero" had entered the story), Alfred propped his elbows on his knees while leaning forward so that he could rest his chin on his hands. His smile became a bit more wistful then, "It's not my favorite one, but I don't think you can see the Eagle from out here."

"This Eagle is your favorite then?" Ivan asked, clearly making his presence known.

Alfred jumped and whirled around as though he were about to be attacked and was preparing to defend himself. Ivan chuckled, amused by the display. The second Alfred realized who it was standing behind him, his expression fell into a scowl. "It's weird to sneak up on people," he muttered.

"Good evening, your majesty," Toris greeted.

The second Ivan's hand made contact with Alfred's shoulder, the blue King shrugged it off. Ivan didn't seem to care much, though, as his expression didn't change much. "You will be following me now, da?" he instructed.

The two Kings met eyes—one defiant, the other amused. "We can talk just fine out here," Alfred pointed out.

Something shifted in Ivan's eyes, causing Alfred to feel as though there was a harsh pressure charging the air around him. He continued to leer, though; Alfred wasn't one to back down even at a disadvantage. "We have things to discus," Ivan insisted, "Now hurry up; I will not wait for you, and it would be a shame if your room was suddenly locked for the night…" Making his point valid, he turned and began walking towards the inner portions of the ship.

With a rather dramatic huff, Alfred climbed to his feet. While he liked looking up at the stars, the closer and closer they got to Clubs, the colder and colder it was getting; he did _not_ want to sleep out on the deck in the cold. He made sure to (maturely) stomp his shoes against the wooden decks with each step to let the King of green know that he was _unhappily_ following.

Alfred was honestly surprised when they arrived in a rather cramped room instead of something more…lavish. Within the small space, there was a bed crammed against the back wall; a small table holding well-organized stacks of parchment, writing tools, and a rather large map; a single chair with the table; and several candles lit around the room.

Obviously, Ivan caught Alfred staring, "You were expecting something else, da?" Alfred nodded, still a bit too surprised to come up with some witty (AKA untactful) remark to respond with. Ivan's smile fell just a fraction as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He motioned for Alfred to take the chair.

Alfred scooted the chair out, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden planks of the floor. He plopped himself unceremoniously in the chair, watching the other King with a bit of a frown. So this was supposed to be Spades' greatest enemy, huh? So he was tall, and Alfred guessed that he could probably be kind of intimidating if he wanted. Of course, Alfred wasn't affected—he'd been forced in the middle of too many of Yao and Arthur's fights over cooking for that.

Before he could stop himself, he snickered at the memory, causing one of the Club king's fair brow's to lift. Alfred shook his head quickly, "You were sayin'?"

Either doing a wonderful job of brushing off the interruption or simply not caring, Ivan began speaking, "It would do you well to learn the language of my court."

Well there went the good mood the memory of Yao smacking Arthur in the head with a wooden spoon brought back. Crossing his arms over his chest, Alfred returned Ivan's gaze, "Nope." That was just one step too far. Alfred was well aware that he would probably have to learn it eventually, but he was still recovering from the shock of leaving behind his homeland; he wasn't ready to give up even more so quickly. Besides… as Yao liked to point out… Alfred was terrible with picking up other languages.

Oddly enough, Ivan's smile lifted, "Wrong answer."

Alfred felt his spine tense without his permission, but he still refused to back down. He continued to stare back defiantly. It was just a _smile_. How creepy could those get? "You're not gettin' me to speak anything but my language," he argued, "Yours is boring." Honestly, though, he wasn't even sure if what he heard the crew on the ship speaking was the same as the dominate language of Clubs' court. He had no idea what Ivan's language sounded like.

That was enough to wipe the smile off of Ivan's face. Alfred decided that he was much easier to deal with when he looked serious; it was easier to see the faint traces of tired black lines under his eyes speaking of a lack of sleep and the tension stored in his broad shoulders. Something about this more serious version of the Club King made Alfred wonder if there was some sort of trouble inside the Kingdom of Clubs. He'd have to ask Toris about that later.

"If that is the attitude you are going to take, I will stop speaking your language," Ivan warned before a hint of a smile twitched at his lips, "Oh, and Toris, too."

Alfred gaped for a moment, "Dude, you can't do that!"

This time, Ivan's smile wasn't so much the way-too-innocent one that kind of bugged Alfred; it actually seemed as though the taller monarch was genuinely amused. "Да. Я могу," he responded.

Alfred's eye twitched rapidly. "Uh… What?" Ivan just continued to smile and watch the Spade King's reaction. Alfred slanted his lips, sulking coming as a fairly natural reaction at the moment. "I totally hate you," he informed.

"Are you changing your answer then?" Ivan asked, "Because I find the idea of you getting hopelessly lost in the streets of my capital rather amusing."

Alfred stared at the man as though Ivan had just spoken another sentence in his language. With a heavy, almost dramatic sigh full of frustration, he leaned back against the chair, choosing to look at the map on the table and the pictures that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight instead of Ivan, "Fine. Just so I show you up in your own language."

The green-clad monarch chuckled softly, and Alfred found his eyes drawn back to the amused violet pair without his permission. "Удачи," Ivan responded before shifting a bit, presumably to get comfortable, "Let's begin with something easy."

Alfred had a feeling that the remainder of the trip just got a whole lot longer.

* * *

><p>If Alfred assumed that trying to speak Yao's language was difficult for him, actually learning Ivan's was, thankfully, just a little less confusing in some respects. Still, he found himself the victim of many amused and disappointed looks from a certain pair of violet eyes over the span of the next two weeks. It wasn't his fault that Ivan was a slave driver of a teacher… He expected Alfred to have the alphabet down in the first week! Okay, maybe that wasn't so bad since the Spade King had nothing to do besides lounge around the ship and the occasional bit of exercise, but said King was extremely resistant to anything he didn't actually want to do (a trait that, as Yao put it, was both good and bad, depending on the situation).<p>

The pair of Kings met up every night, exactly one hour after dinner, and Alfred would try to resist leaning in any way possible. He would make snide remarks that were, more usually than not, brushed off with a (sometimes cutting) remark from Ivan. However, on the next to last day they were to be on the ship, Ivan had finally lost his patience (Alfred, honestly, was surprised that it had taken that long given that Arthur's patience record was eight hours and Yao's was two days when the King chose to sulk). After several remarks about how idiotic and lazy Spades' citizens must be if they idolized such King, Alfred shot back his own rant about Clubs and its King before storming out of the room in a fury that would have made Arthur proud. Insulting Alfred was one thing; insulting his people struck a nerve. He was about to show Ivan just how dumb the people of Spades were.

Alfred bit at his lip as he made his way to Ivan's room for the final lesson before they hit the mainland. He knocked loudly on the door, intent on disturbing the Club King as much as possible.

"Come in," the usual accented response came. Alfred entered the room and shut the door behind him. The King of Clubs was at the chair (odd, since he was usually sitting on the edge of the bed), leaning over some papers, occasionally scratching something out and penning something else down with a quill.

"Добрый вечер," Alfred snapped, trying his best to roll the sounds off of his tongue, mimicking the way Ivan spoke. It wasn't perfect by a long shot, but it certain wasn't bad, Alfred realized with a proud grin. Ivan's eyes defocused from the words he'd been reading, blinked a few times, and then looked up to Alfred, obviously not expecting to hear the words anytime soon.

A smirk cracked on his lips, and he set the quill down on a nearby parchment designated to clean the extra ink before writing. "Good evening," he replied.

"Quiz me," Alfred demanded without even bothering to try and preserve a sense of diplomacy.

Ivan tilted his head and blinked again, "Pardon?"

Alfred pointed to a clean parchment, "On your weird letters."

Ivan hesitated for a minute, just watching Alfred before amusement filled his eyes again. "If that is what you want," he responded. He picked up the quill and began to write the characters on a clean piece of paper. "Tell me the sounds they make," he instructed even though they'd been through the same thing every night for two weeks.

Honestly, Ivan was rather surprised even if he hid it expertly behind several picky statements and curt comments at Alfred. Apparently the boy was quite a bit more intelligent than he'd assumed; it was just a matter of motivation. In a single one-hour lesson, Alfred learned more than he had in thirteen other lessons.

When Ivan decided that it was enough for one night, he leaned back against his seat and inspected the young King seated on the edge of the bed. The green-clad king intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them. "You are quite good at this pretending thing, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically.

Alfred's large, sapphire eyes blinked several times, "Uh… what?"

A light smirk twitched at the corner of Ivan's lip, "Nothing important. Now, I suggest you pay close attention to what I am about to tell you and answer me honestly. Your life could depend on this. You understand that, da?"

The almost endearing look of confusion on the other King's face fell quickly into a challenging look. Obviously he was either being cocky, or he didn't understand that Ivan's words were a simple truth and not a threat. "If I die, Artie isn't gonna be happy, let me tell ya that," the blue-clad King responded.

Ivan frowned and sat back up. He'd seen the royal family of Spades interact; they were close, and that was something even a fool could see. It wasn't exactly that Ivan wished for a similar trusting relationship with his Queen and Jack; it would just make everything work more smoothly if the pair of them weren't constantly looking for some excuse or another to fight back against Ivan. Then again, they _had_ been somewhat like the Spade family at one point, but after… _that_ incident, the Jack of Clubs, even more so than the Queen, did his best to strike at Ivan in any way possible. The Jack was clever and made certain that, when the time came to inspect the matter, the Jack's hands were always clean, but Ivan knew, and the Jack knew that the King knew; it was that knowing smirk that told Ivan all he needed to know. Honestly, though, a part of Ivan knew that it wasn't unwarranted. In defending his kingdom, he'd made an enemy of his own Jack and Queen.

By the time Ivan realized he hadn't responded, Alfred had tilted his head and shifted to try and get a better view of the Club King's face. Violet eyes widened for a moment before Ivan summoned the small smile that acted as a quick shield. "You okay, big guy?" Alfred asked.

"Fine," Ivan responded evenly, "I have a question for you first, Alfred. How much does your kingdom know of the Jokers?"

Alfred blinked at the question and tilted his head, "Well… they started out as people who cast off their allegiance to a suit and went through some weird, secret magic ritual to gain tons of powers."

Ivan nodded in agreement, "A bit crudely put, but да; that is the basic idea." He honestly expected the Spades Kingdom to know much more about the mysterious suitless Jokers given their past history, but he supposed most things were lost with time… and a bit of magic. "There is only one thing that I would correct you on; most of the time, Jokers did not throw away their suit—it was burned away from them by white magic, casted without the castor even knowing that they'd done it."

Alright, so Alfred was a _little_ curious. Exploration into the past was a hobby of his, after all, and, if all of this was true, it could explain some of the questions the old ruins and scrolls raised. "Okay… How do you cast magic without knowing it?" he asked, sapphire eyes both curious and cautious. Even Arthur's most basic spells took chants and, generally, some sort of preparation (circles, ingredients, etc.). How could someone use magic like that without even knowing it?

"In my homeland, " Ivan began, "we have idea that all people have some magic, they just cannot channel it like others can. We have seen times when extreme stress makes the magic… appear."

Alfred nodded while thinking about it. Arthur's magic really only worked the way he intended it to when they were seriously in danger. The night that Alfred first encountered an assassin… He brushed those thoughts aside; he was an adult now, but the memory was still vivid. "That's great and all, but why the history lesson?" he asked. The sooner he could leave the Club king's side, the better.

Ivan's smile looked a bit strained yet almost relieved, "Then Spades has not been contacted either."

Alfred felt as though a weight slammed into his chest. There was just something… ominous about that statement. "Contacted? What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice making it sound like more of a demand, "What's going on?"

Ivan inspected the shorter King for a moment in the tense silence. And then the King did something Alfred didn't expect; he laughed. Alfred stared dully at Ivan, not appreciating the gesture. "Ah. Was not laughing at you," he clarified, "You just don't understand; this was whole reason for bringing you to Clubs." Alfred continued to give him a dull stare, not comprehending the point and not enjoying being left out of the loop. Ivan cleared his throat, "I brought you here because Spades was supposed to have most information on the Jokers. Preventing war was just a bonus."

Alfred clinched his teeth together. So he was torn away from his family and kingdom because a foreign monarch wanted a _history lesson_? His nails dug deep into the skin of his palms as he resisted the urge to attack the taller King. "That's _it_?" he seethed, surprised that his own voice could actually hold that much fury.

Ivan seemed to realize his mistake and shook his head, "No, is not '_it_.' The Jokers intend to attack and conqueror the Four Kingdoms. We have until next winter to prepare."

Alfred felt his fingers unclench and his jaw drop just a bit. Oh. Well… that was a bit of a problem, wasn't it? He forced a smile, fighting against the unease in his stomach. He'd seen the scrolls and the paintings; one Joker was said to be capable of taking down a third of an army in some cases. "Wait! They can't even get off their island! How could they attack us?" he demanded, climbing to his feet to look down at the seated Ivan.

The other monarch stood up as well, once again displaying his full height, "Because curse that first Spade Queen placed on Joker Island is almost broken now. Is just a little problem, da?"

Yeah. Little problem. Right. "You're lying," Alfred snapped, "That's impossible! How would you even know all that? Nobody can find the freakin' Joker Island."

Ivan's smile lifted upwards as if to say '_I know something you don't!_' "You will see tomorrow," he responded with confidence that was hard to fake.

There was a knock at the door before Toris entered. The brunette seemed a bit surprised to see both Kings still conversing. "Your Highness, Captain Carriedo will be arriving tomorrow at port with the information on the location you requested. He um… asks that his payment be ready when he arrives; he intends to leave port as soon as possible," the assistant informed.

Ivan turned his attention to Toris and the pair began conversing in foreign words that Alfred didn't bother to listen to. Instead, he left without a word and went out onto the deck of the ship, settling his arms against the railing as the frigid night air swept through his blonde hair. War with the Jokers… A war that would have to be fought predominantly with magic.

A smirk quirked at the corner of his lips. "Artie's gonna love this," he laughed to no one in particular.

* * *

><p><em>Three weeks earlier…<em>

Two sets of footsteps pounded on the soft dirt of the tropical underbrush with a horde of shouting and explosions following them. "Gil… I can't keep… running," a blonde youth called, trying to catch his breath in between short strides. Prominent brows furrowed on the child's face, and his blue eyes desperately glanced from the tall albino figure in front of him to the thick forest vegetation behind him. Their pursuers could appear at any moment…

The albino's red eyes caught sight of the youth's struggles to keep up with his long strides almost immediately. "Tch. Come here, Pete. I'm awesome enough to ditch these guys _und_ carry you," he announced quietly. He didn't wait for an answer as he scooped the child up in his arms and continued barreling through the vegetation with no idea of their destination's direction. Peter knew it even if Gilbert didn't say it; they were lost.

The sounds of their pursuers were getting louder, closer. Gilbert ground his teeth together and sped up, sweat dripping from his forehead. Years in the military had honed him to the point where he could push his physical body beyond its normal limits… and the magic he'd gained only helped.

Peter's smaller hands clinched tightly into Gilbert's black and red jacket. For once, he wasn't complaining about being carried. The stress written in the normally carefree albino's face was enough to silence his protests.

Just when Gilbert could hear the sound of their pursuers' footsteps, an arm snaked suddenly around his waist and a hand clamped over his mouth. The arm yanked him back into nearby brush. Gilbert tensed, ready to fight. "Shh. Stay still and quiet for once. Understood?" the familiar, accented voice instructed calmly and quietly, just barely loud enough for Peter to hear.

Gilbert relaxed and nodded at the familiar voice. His crimson red eyes finally caught sight of the man who had pulled them into the thick brush. Calm and calculating sea-colored eyes glanced at Gilbert before peeking through the spaces in their cover. Long blonde hair trailed down the man's black-clad back, a few leaves tangled in here and there.

The thundering of their pursuers passed directly in front of them. Peter tensed in Gilbert's arms while the two adults watched with differing degrees of tension. It was hard to tell just how long they waited after the storm of people passed before the blonde man pushed his way from the brush and motioned for Gilbert to follow.

Gilbert followed after their mysterious savior, his eyes watching the back of the head of blonde hair, "_Vati_, I—"

"I know," the deep voice cut him off as his father slowed down enough for Gilbert to catch up. He looked over his son quickly, checking for injuries. When he found none, he nodded.

Gilbert tilted his head, honestly confused, "_Vait_. You _knew_?"

The older man nodded once again, "And I arranged for a ship to take you from here."

Gilbert stopped walking, crimson eyes genuinely confused. He slanted his lips and caught up again since his father had yet to stop walking. "_Vati_, you _do_ realize that Romulus isn't going to be happy about you helping us escape, _ja_?"

"Romulus isn't going to find out," the older man responded simply, "If you would stop talking and keep moving, I wouldn't be seen with you anyway." Still, the fact that he was actually talking a decent bit let Gilbert realize that his father wasn't exactly calm at the moment.

Peter's eyes widened, "_You're_ Aldrich?" The older blonde gave a curt nod. "Gilbert! You never told me your papa is Romulus' bodyguard!"

Gilbert grinned, "Vould you have trusted me if I did?"

Peter huffed and crossed his arms in a pout, but he didn't deny it. The trio walked silently from then on until the tropical vegetation gave way to a sandy beach. Gilbert paused for a minute when his eyes feel on the rather large ship waiting out on the ocean. Oh, he'd seen ships before, but how long had it been since he'd been trapped on that island…? Years? Decades? Centuries? No, it couldn't be that long. Could it? The curse did tend to warp time…

"Are those… humans?" Peter asked, pointing to the figures leaning against a small raft on the beach. A naturally tanned man was currently cooing to what looked to be a small turtle. His dark hair was windblown and messy underneath a plumed hat, and his dark red, gold trimmed coat looked as though it was too thick for the tropical weather. A pair of tall black boots rested near his bare feet. The other, shorter man was obviously not as happy as the one cooing to the turtle, and his curses could be heard from the several meters that separated them from the trio of new arrivals. A rather noticeable curl bounced benieth his black bandana as he yelled and threatened the hatted man. He was dressed in a slightly less extravigent, but still pirate-like outfit more suited for the heat of the Joker Island.

Gilbert blinked all of three times before he carefully set Peter back on his feet and ran towards the men in the boat. "Toni!" he called, waving his hand as his black-booted feet hit the ground. Could it really be…? He hadn't aged hardly at all... Time really was warped behind the magic veil that sepperated Jokers and humans.

Green eyes looked down from the turtle to the new arrivals. The shorter man stopped yelling to stare blatantly at the albino running to them. "W-What is…? How…? Antonio?" he stammered, his skin paling slightly, "Is that…?"

"Gilly!" Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo called back with a rather large grin on his face as the albino stopped in front of him, "I knew you were too awesome to just keel over, _amigo_! I wonder who it was that saved you, though… Oh well! Oh! _Hola _Aldrich! I made it here just like you told me. Since you're all here, I guess this is the right place, huh? It was kind of weird because Lovi was the only one who could see this place until we his the beach."

Gilbert turned back to look over his shoulder at Aldrich who didn't look too thrilled about the pirate captain's loudness. "You called Toni?" he asked with a lopsided smirk.

Aldrich nodded when he and Peter found themselves in front of Antonio. "Hurry and go; I'll lead the others down a wrong trail," he instructed.

Peter didn't need to be told twice; he hopped in the boat, eliciting a line of curses from the other pirate for nearly tipping the boat. Gilbert turned to face his _Vati_. "You could come, too, you know," he pointed out.

Aldrich shook his head, "I have my reasons for staying."

Gilbert slanted his lips, "He isn't going to stop, _Vati_. That's vhy you're helping me get back."

"Hey, Gilly, I think we need to get going before the magic snaps back and you get stuck again," Antonio warned cheerfully.

"I will see you if the war begins," Aldrich stated before clapping an awkward hand on his son's shoulder, "Protect Ludwig."

Gilbert nodded, sensing the finality in Aldrich's words. "Vell, if you don't vant to join the awesome party, it's not my fault," he decided. Aldrich shook his head, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes. He lifted his arm and began his way back into the underbrush.

Gilbert watched him for a moment before he climbed into the boat. Antonio grinned and pushed it into the water, the ends of his tan pants darkening from the ocean's gentle waters before he hopped in next to the shorter pirate, Lovino, and Gilbert. Lovino seemed to have finally regained his usual skin tone and had taken to leering at Gilbert with crossed arms, "What's the matter, potato-breath? Too annoying for even the Reaper?"

"Now, Lovi, that's not nice," Antonio chided in a voice that was nearly a song. Of course, that was enough to start a whole new line of curses spoken in a mixture of three languages followed by a painful looking head-butt.

Gilbert leaned his head back and let lose a loud laugh that he hadn't heard from himself in years. He was free, and that was enough… for now.

Now all he had to do was prepare four nations for a war they couldn't possibly win. But, hey, Gilbert was awesome; that was nothing. Crimson eyes watched the tropical forests of the Joker Island slowly shrink into the distance with each motion of the oar in his friend's hand.

Freedom was, indeed, sweet.

* * *

><p><strong>Whew. Long chapter. :P Anyway, I hope that turned out better than I think it did . *is not too happy with it*I'll have to keep looking for a beta 'cause I really don't feel like I do a good job looking over my own stuff. Well, at least you all have been introduced to the plot line now~ Hopefully that cleared up the issue I got on one of my reviews… <strong>

**I'd put down a little information here, but I think I'll wait to introduce how the Clubs monarch functions for the next chapter since that's when the Jack and Queen are introduced, and I can't really put anything down on the Jokers without ruining some of the surprises. :P Oh! But I can put down a bit about pirates in this story.**

**Pirates (in this story, anyway) in the Four Kingdoms are actually, for the most part, recognized by the laws of the Kingdoms. They function more like sea-based mercenaries and hired explorers, and they are often contracted by a monarch to take down an enemy nation's ships or look for new territory. They aren't _exactly_ suitless as they fly the colours of whatever nation is currently contracting them, but they're about as close as anyone can legally get without being a Joker. Pirates are quite highly regarded in both Hearts and Spades, since both kingdoms have a long history of using pirates in war. Diamonds has mixed feelings over them, and Clubs only enlists pirate aid when they have no other choice for the most part. **

**Anyway, in case it wasn't obvious: **

**Romulus = Ancient Rome**

**Aldrich = Germania**

**I read a few stories with those names and I kind of got attached to referring to them as such. :P**

**Translations **(Feel free to point out anything wrong with these. .)

Да. Я могу = Yes. I can

Удачи = Good luck

Добрый вечер = Good evening

Und = and

Vati = father

Ja = yes

Hola = hello


	3. Clubs

**You guys are so great! T.T *sniffs* I'm so happy. I got like six reviews in the first few hours of posting. I can't even tell you all how amazing that made me feel. I would totally hug you guys if I could, so I'll just hug my computer screen instead~ Anyway, once again, I hope that you all are enjoying the story!**

**Anyway, some special shout outs to some awesome reviews to whom I unfortunately couldn't reply to via pm: my thanks to Usagi323, Katya, and Happy Reader. ^^ I can't tell you guys how happy everyone's reviews made me~ Anyway, Happy Reader, I will probably be updating Echoes soon; I have an idea where I'm going with it next, so it shouldn't take too long. **

**For garysam and anyone else looking for more information on the cardverse, I suggest the deviantArt group: http : / aph – cardverse . deviantart .com / (just delete the spaces). **

**Disclaimer: *sigh* Nope, I still don't own Hetalia. **

* * *

><p>…<em>:…Clubs…:…<em>

If there was one thing that Alfred got from stepping off of the ship and into the streets of Clubs, it was the fact that Clubs was not nearly as festive about a monarch's returning as Spades usually was. If he, Arthur, or Yao were to go abroad, there was a precession in the streets to welcome them back when they returned to the castle. The people of Clubs simply bowed their head to their green-clad King in respect and… fear? Well, sure, Alfred figured that the other King was a bit of a jerk, but he couldn't really see why anyone would be afraid of him… other than his height maybe; he _was_ pretty tall.

Instead of bringing it up, however, Alfred looked around at the capital of Clubs. The streets were built from a combination of grey and brown stones that had been smoothed down precisely and fitted together. The buildings were often much more colorful than Alfred had assumed they would be, and, honestly, the foreign architecture was rather beautiful to the Spade King. People bustled through the city, many of them carrying woven baskets packed with produce and meat. Nearly everyone wore thick clothes to combat the chilled weather. Thankfully Alfred's usual clothes were thick enough to last through the chill. It was odd to think that they'd been far too warm in Spades. Apparently it was just as odd for the citizens of Clubs to see a man walking next to their King wearing blue, foreign cut clothes.

Ivan led the way through the streets while Alfred followed off to his right side and Toris on his left. Oddly enough, Ivan had dismissed the soldiers that had traveled with them on the ship. While it may not have been the smartest plan for a monarch, Alfred grudgingly respected it; he was usually one to dismiss his own guard as soon as he could. Ivan and Toris were conversing in a foreign language again, leaving Alfred plenty of time to simply look around for anything even remotely familiar.

"That is the castle," Ivan finally switched back to Alfred's native language and pointed to the colorful green, beige, and white towers standing tall above the city. Looking up at it, Alfred couldn't help but smile in a child-like sense of wonder; it was _huge_. "Is nice, da?" Ivan chuckled, clearly amused by the shorter monarch's reaction.

Alfred quickly schooled his awe and crossed his arms, "It's okay, I guess."

Ivan didn't comment further, but his violet eyes did linger on the sulking, stubborn King dressed in blue for a moment longer before he returned his attention to Toris again.

* * *

><p>Soft music carried through the halls of the castle of Clubs. Alfred had almost been surprised to hear something so similar to what was played in Spades. Obviously either Spades had taken to playing Clubs' music or the musician in question was playing something from one of the other kingdoms. When the trio passed a hall that Alfred was sure the music was coming from, he stopped to try and look for the source. All he could see were the light beige walls that seemed pervasive in the large castle as they twisted and snaked until all he could see was another wall.<p>

The music, though, sounded like something he'd heard at a funeral—soft, steady, forlorn, mournful, yet dignified to an extent that was difficult to reach in life. In his mind's eye, Alfred could see the pictures of not-so distant memory: Arthur huddled against his throne, pale, tired, and still red-eyed from the weeping he hadn't bothered to deny that he'd done. Yao had made sure the precession had been beautiful and, for once, spared no expense to mourn the loss of the Queen of Spades' younger brother. Alfred, barely seventeen, had stood next to Arthur the entire time in silence, his hand never leaving the Spade Queen's shoulder. For once, Arthur didn't complain.

"Is just the Jack," Ivan announced, pulling Alfred from his memories, "You will meet later."

Alfred looked down the hall for a few seconds longer, wondering who the Jack of Clubs had lost to cause such sad music before he turned and continued down the halls with Ivan and Toris.

* * *

><p>Apparently Alfred wouldn't have to wait long to officially meet the Queen and Jack of Clubs; there was to be a court held that evening to decide several political matters, and the King of Spades was "invited" ever so kindly by the King of Clubs. The only thing that really interested Alfred was the fact that a pirate was supposed to make a report at court. While some in Spades didn't care for the pirate-based past of the country, Alfred had always been fascinated by the hired mercenaries and explorers—a fascination that Arthur's bedtime stories about his few years as a pirate had only encouraged.<p>

After a brief tour of a section or two of the palace, Ivan and Toris left Alfred at his new room and took off to prepare for court. That was around the time the Club King smiled ever so innocently and _asked_ if Alfred would join them as though he had much of a choice.

Sure the room was nice and spacey, but it was nothing like what he was used to in Spades. The walls, just like every other wall he'd seen in Clubs, were a light beige. Rich green curtains of thick velvet hung up around the large set of muti-paned windows, and the same material hung from the posts around the rather large bed. Thick blankets were piled up with the clubs emblem on them, and several white, feather pillows were waiting at the head of the bed. A wooden desk was placed in the corner of the room, writing utensils neatly stacked around its wooden surface.

With a sulking sigh, the Spade King dug through the clothes he'd let a servant pack (a rare occurrence, honestly) and plucked out anything even remotely blue. If he was going to appear in the Club court, he was going to make sure that _everyone_ knew where his allegiance lay. Well, he _may_ have wanted to see if he could irritate Ivan, but that _certainly_ wasn't the main reason behind it. Alright, so maybe it was, but Alfred felt entitled to a little sulking.

* * *

><p>Alfred was blown away.<p>

If he'd thought the palace itself was beautiful, nothing could compare to the throne room hidden deep inside the castle (he'd had to ask about five servants for directions before he finally found Toris and trailed after him). The ceiling was high and decorated with gems, colorful murals. The lavish ceilings were supported by thick pillars, each one sporting a carved scene at the portion that met the ceiling. The walls were a rich beige complimented by the velvet and silk tapestries, curtains, and decorative weapons and armor placed along the long width of the hall. Stain glass windows let in a degree of colorful light while bright torches lit by ever-burning magic flames cast a soft light around the whole hall. The light fragrance of incense burned around the hall, the wisps of smoke curling up into the air like the fingers of a phantom. Like in Spades, a thick carpet with gold embroidery in the country's color ran from the elaborate, obsidian doors to the three thrones seated at the back of the room.

Like Spades, the three thrones were situated with the tallest and most elaborate throne, encrusted in emeralds and jade work, in the middle; a slightly smaller and less elaborate version to the right; and an even less elaborate, but by no means common, throne off to the left. However, the King's throne was elevated one more step above the Jack and Queen's throne. Alfred narrowed his eyes at the fair-haired King leaning one elbow lightly against the side of the obsidian and green throne with his chin propped up by his hand with the fingers of his other hand curled around a green and beige scepter.

In Spades, the monarchy had always acted as a single unit; there were laws to prevent one monarch from overpowering the other, and anything different was considered wrong. He'd been to Diamonds and Hearts and knew that they, too, had different forms of government, but their monarchies were still balanced in some form of another. The idea of so much power belonging to a single person… it was unnerving.

Finally tearing his eyes from the King, Alfred found the Queen sitting in the throne to the right. After hearing stories about the fearsome warrior that was supposed to be Queen of Clubs, Alfred was a bit confused. She didn't look particularly fearsome… Although, he figured that the small pink flower tucked in her thick brown hair and the warm smile she cast at some of the citizens crowded at the sides of the room may have had something to do with that. Then again, the rather large broadsword sitting next to her may have been enough to prove that this was the same Queen he'd heard about.

The Jack… almost reminded him of Arthur with the expression he wore. Granted, Arthur's regal expression generally slipped right off of his face after court was let out in order to yell at Alfred for teasing him throughout the whole ordeal. Something told Alfred that the Jack of Clubs didn't lose it as easily as Arthur did around Alfred, the King of Diamonds, the Ace of Spades (Arthur blamed that on the fact that their Ace was, in fact, Arthur's oldest brother who loved to tease/"curse" the younger boy), and… well, pretty much everyone to be honest.

Alfred blinked a few times when he realized that the Jack's violet eyes were locked on him from behind a pair of thin glasses. Out of habit, his lips twitched into a hasty and somewhat forced smile, but he managed to resist the urge to rub at the back of his neck.

There was a small tug at his arm, and Alfred looked down to see Toris nervously trying to pull the Spade King along. Taking a quick glance around the room instead of focusing on the monarchs, Alfred realized that wearing blue in a kingdom like Clubs, which had been on the brink of war with the kingdom of blue, probably wasn't the best idea for blending in.

"If you are finished making a show of yourself, King of Spades, perhaps you should have a seat," the accented voice of the Jack scolded through the hall.

Alfred felt as though a facial muscle near his eye twitched. He was about to comment back when Toris gave him another light push towards the front of the room. "Please not here, sir," he whispered.

For Toris's sake, Alfred went along with it and brushed off the Jack's comment. Ivan, however, looked somewhat amused. He laughed softly and sat up straight, turning to look at his Jack, "He just does not know where to sit. Isn't that right, little King?"

The same facial muscle that twitched earlier decided to act up again. "I'll show you freakin' lit-"

"The seat next to the King," Toris cut in before parting from the blue-clad King. Sure enough, there was a small seat pulled up next to the largest throne. Ivan's smile widened as Alfred's frown deepened. At least he was proudly still wearing blue and violet.

The light _click_ of the Spade King's steps cut neatly through the murmurs of the crowds gathered on either side of the hall. All the while, Alfred didn't lower his eyes from Ivan's; he proudly made a challenge to the taller King and a promise that he wouldn't back down. Though, what he was not backing down from, Alfred wasn't entirely sure of yet.

He took the seat that was designated his, holding his body in the posture Arthur and Yao had begged him to keep for years. His chin held high, he turned his eyes to his fellow king with a faked grin that he hoped rivaled the taller monarch's, "I hate you."

Oddly enough, violet eyes blinked and the smile dropped just a bit. With a tilted head, the King of Clubs was about to speak when he was cut off by the large, obsidian doors opening once more. Alfred's attention snapped to the brilliant flash of red and gold in his peripheral that ended up being a thick, velvet coat that Alfred actually recognized. "Antonio?" slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. Alfred had met the pirate during one of his and Arthur's trips to their alliance meetings with Diamonds; the pirate was good friends with the Diamond king. Why in the world was a predominantly Diamonds-aligned pirate in Clubs?

Green eyes met blue, and the pirate captain blinked a few times. As usual, his black, white- and red-plumed hat was perched over his slightly curled dark hair. His dark crimson coat was pulled loosely over a white, elegantly frilled shirt and black pants that tucked into tall black boots. A long, slim saber was strapped to a leather belt that snugged close to his slim waist with a rich, golden pistol hanging on his opposite hip. The pirate's lips curled up into a grin as green eyes narrowed just enough to be dangerous. "Alfred," he greeted, taking long strides towards the Clubs royalty and their guest, "What are you doing up there, Alfred? Did _mi amigo_ Arthur finally kick you out of the house to go make peace?"

The "_mi amigo_" in front of the Spade Queen's name, of course, was the highest degree of sarcasm; Arthur and Antonio had been the fiercest of rivals during the Queen's… less than regal days.

Alfred shook his head with a grin, "Dude, you know it'd take more than Artie to kick me outta the castle."

The banter dropped off as Antonio plucked the hat from his head and made a show of a flourished bow to one knee before the thrones. In one fluid motion, he stood back up and placed his hat back over his dark hair. The palm of his hand rested lazily against the hilt of his sword. "I found it," he announced, his smirk curling upwards in a way that reminded Alfred of a cat that had just cornered a mouse, "It wasn't easy, though. But I guess you wouldn't have had to hire me if it was…" The pirate trailed off for a few minutes before he shook his head and returned his attention to Ivan. He pulled a rolled up and sealed piece of parchment out the folds of his thick coat and tossed it to the monarch who reached forward only a fraction to catch it.

Ivan broke the seal and ran a glance of the contents. With a er… not-so-discreet lean in his chair, Alfred glanced over to see the edges of a map. The edges of the pale monarch's lips twitched upwards as he folded the paper back up and held it out to Alfred, "If you are so curious, you only need to ask."

Alfred snatched the parchment from Ivan and unfolded it with a leer that only seemed to amuse the Club King. His eyes were drawn at first to the pale blue colored Island nation that he ruled out of sheer instinct. However, it didn't take long until he caught sight of the thick black line that ran the ocean side of Clubs to a peculiar black spot that wasn't all that far away from Spades. While Alfred may not have been the best at geography, he knew his own lands; there _wasn't_ anything where the black outline lay. He looked over the map at Antonio, "Uh… Dude, did you spill some ink or somethin'?"

Antonio laugh good naturedly and shook his head, "No, _amigo_. You're looking at Joker Island. It kind of surprised me, too. Who would have guessed it was so close to Spades? It's a good thing Arthur is a decent hand with ships; you're going to need them when the Jokers attack."

Alfred felt ice crystalizing in a freezing, heavy clump in his stomach. A disbelieving laugh slipped past his lips, "Nobody can find the Joker Island."

Antonio tilted his head with a wounded expression, "Aw, that's not nice, Alfred; I'm not nobody. Besides, you know a good pirate never reveals his tricks."

Pale fingers settled on the top of the map, and Ivan pulled it from Alfred's fingers with nothing more than a numb resistance. For the remainder of the court, Alfred was oddly quiet; he was too busy trying to come up with a plan to save Spades before this battle with the Jokers took place. Without its King, Spades was at a disadvantage. Of course, there were ways to get around the political matters of his absence, but there was a long standing rule that the King and Queen entered battle side-by-side. There was also the superstition that the armies didn't perform nearly as well without both King and Queen. War with Clubs or the Jokers? Either way, Spades was in serious trouble…

Lost in the mist of his world-saving ideas, Alfred was just a _little_ startled when a hand touched his shoulder. He blinked several times as if to clear the fog in front of his eyes. Slowly, the Queen of Clubs came into a sharper resolution. She smiled warmly at Alfred as she stood in front of him with the Jack at her side, "Court is over, you know." Sure enough, the citizens and King were missing, and the guards were thinning out.

A smile lifted Alfred's lips out of habit (and maybe a _little_ embarrassment), "Yeah, I know. I was just uh…"

"Not paying attention," the Jack finished, pushing thin frames further up the bridge of his nose.

He'd heard that one from Arthur way too many times, "Hey! I was, too, paying attention!"

The frown on the Jack's face grew deeper, and his violet eyes took on a distant light as though his mind wasn't fully in the present. The Queen seemed to catch the look and took on a sad look hidden deeply behind green eyes. "He's just worried about his country, Roderich," she offered, "Isn't that right?"

Unable to admit that Spades was at a disadvantage to Clubs royalty, Alfred shook his head, conjuring up a proud smirk, "Nope. Spades is totally tough enough to handle some stupid Jokers."

That answer only seemed to push Roderich further into a seemingly foul mood. The Jack turned on his heel and gracefully descended the stairs, his body language speaking volumes more than his words ever would. Alfred blinked a few times and watched until the Jack was out of the door. The Queen's sad look only deepened, "I think you just reminded him of someone. That's all. Anyway, I'm Elizabeta. If you need something, feel free to ask, alright?"

Alfred nodded, pleasantly surprised at the Queen's polite attitude. He stood up and held out his hand with a grin, feeling much more in place with the usual formalities, "Alfred F. Jones, King of Spades. Nice to meet you!"

Elizabeta smiled and shook his hand with a laugh.

* * *

><p>Antonio whistled to himself as he boarded his ship, his thick boots clicking in a sharp staccato drum beat in tune with the song. Emerald eyes lazily swept over the content faces of his crew (well, Lovi wasn't too content, but that was normal); the pay for the location had been quite handsome. He stopped a few feet from the gathered members of his crew and stared at them as they stared at him.<p>

"Well, are you just going to stare or are we leaving yet?" Lovino demanded, tapping his foot irritable against the boards of the ship.

Antonio smiled and reached out to grab hold of Lovino, earning a kick right to the stomach. The pirate doubled over with a wince, nursing his abdomen, "Lovi! That's not nice, _mi tomate_!"

Lovino rolled his eyes and mumbled a few curses under his breath. "Get to work!" he snapped at the crew who found the abuse of their captain at the hands of the Hearts native an everyday occurrence. He began snapping out orders in a mixture of his native language and Antonio's.

Once the crew had dispersed, Lovino scowled as arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, "You know, sometimes I wonder why I'm captain."

Lovino rolled his eyes, "I wonder how you haven't gotten yourself killed yet, _idiota._" Truthfully, though, he didn't wonder. Despite all of his cheerful, spacey banter, the pirate captain was… well, a pirate captain. Lovino could still remember the first time he'd met the man before Antonio had… tamed himself down. The pirate captain in his "glory days" had been a fearsome sight to behold, laughing cheerfully while his blade dripped with blood on a background of a burning village with his arms spread wide at the sight. His emerald eyes had shone like they were carved from the precious gem, his lips curled into a smile more befitting of a predatory cat than a man.

They were quiet for a moment, simply listening to the soothing wash of the waves against the ship. "Where's Gilly?" Antonio finally asked, wondering how in the world the ship was silent with his usually loud and proud friend on board.

"That moron left after you did," Lovino explained, "Said he'd be back soon with some stupid Joker magic; his brat friend is below deck terrorizing the men."

Antonio chuckled and shifted his footing slightly, "You're not just saying that so I'll leave him behind, are you?"

Lovino frowned and crunched the heel of his boot against the toe of Antonio's. Despite having such a bad feeling about keeping a pair of Jokers on the ship, he guessed they couldn't just leave the pair of them out to rot—not that he would ever admit that, of course. It was just… unnerving to look at a man who'd died five years ago.

* * *

><p>Alfred sighed heavily as he tried to relax under the thick green blankets. While it did tend to get cold during the winter time in Spades, he was still shivering with a roaring fire stocked in the fireplace. He'd eventually given up on that and carried a few pillows and blankets to make a sort of military cot on the floor a few feet from the fireplace. Contrary to monarchs like Francis of Diamonds, Alfred was more comfortable with fewer luxuries; Arthur used to tease him about his farming-based childhood and how he was the only King Arthur had ever met who willingly and carefully took care of his own horse and a few other animals.<p>

He rolled around to face the fire in an attempt to warm up his nose. He wondered how his brother was doing back home. He hadn't been able to visit Matthew before he left, and he was already beginning to regret it; it wasn't as though Mattie wouldn't hear about the King of Spades leaving for Clubs. What a mess.

_Thump_.

Alfred shot up. He snatched his glasses and whirled around to face the source of the noise. He'd honestly expected some sort of attack, but for it to be so soon…

His eyes met a violet pair as the Club King looked over his shoulder while closing the door. That… wasn't who he'd expected. Ivan seemed equally confused but the Spade King's makeshift bed. "What are you doing on the floor?" he asked.

"What are you doing in my room?" Alfred snapped back, not at all amused by the intrusion.

Ivan held up a few papers and the map as though it was a sign of peace. "It is usual time for lessons," he explained, "And it would be best to discuss the Joker invasion, da?"

Alfred blinked a few times, not sure how to react, "You wanna talk to _me_ about the Joker invasion—not your Jack and Queen?"

Ivan shifted a bit, his usual, unnerving (well, unnerving to Alfred, anyway) smile falling just a fraction. "You have some knowledge of the last Joker invasion," he offered as he moved to set the papers down on the single wooden table placed near the fireplace. He moved to strike a match from the book that had been left on the table and used it to light the wick of a nearby lantern. A soft light filled the dark corner that the light from the fireplace had previously missed.

While Ivan's excuse did make sense, Alfred still didn't quite understand the reasoning behind invading his room. "Okay… So how come they didn't come with you?" he asked with a skeptical look, "Stopping an invasion is kind of important, dude."

With his back still turned to Alfred as he thumbed through a few pages, Ivan answered, "Jack and Queen would not answer my summons even if I asked; someone like you would not understand."

Once again, the Club King managed to throw him for a loop. "Yeah… Again, stopping an invasion is kind of important, so I kinda think that they'd show up for th-"

"They hate me," Ivan cut in. The words seemed to take the taller King by surprise just as much as they did Alfred. "They would not answer a summons," he repeated as though it made up for the sudden snap.

"Oh," Alfred responded, feeling at a loss. That just left him at a loss to explain the weird nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't be guilt, of course; people didn't feel guilty for bringing up something like that before their enemies… right? Well…

He sighed and climbed out of his blankets, ignoring that, while the King of Clubs was still dressed as usual—small hat included—, he was dressed in a pair of dark pajama pants and a loose blue shirt. He made his way over to the table to stand next to the taller blonde, "Alright, big buy, let's get this over with 'fore I fall asleep at the table."

Amethyst eyes met a sapphire pair, and something seemed to click there. The smile on the taller monarch's face seemed smaller, but, if nothing else, much more realistic than his usual one. "Try to keep up," he instructed, reaching out to flick the gravity-defying cowlick in Alfred's hair with a smirk.

Alfred leered at him and grabbed the offended piece of hair, "Dude, don't touch Nantucket!"

Ivan blinked a few times and tilted his head as he inspected the blonde strand of hair, "Nan…tucket? You name your hair?"

Flushing with embarrassment, the Spade King turned his attention back to the papers, "Just hurry up and tell what whatever you wanted to talk about, 'cause I'm tired and I wanna go back to sleep."

Neither one bother to point out that Alfred clearly hadn't been asleep in the first place.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, by the time they were finished with another language lesson, both monarchs decided that it was late enough to call it a night; the Jokers wouldn't be invading for a while yet, so it seemed safe to assume that one more night wasn't going to hurt them too badly. Ivan collected the unused map with the outline of the Joker Island so menacingly close to Spades it twisted something in Alfred's stomach to look at it. He left the other papers on the desk and pointed to the top page written in the neat foreign script that was starting to become uncomfortably familiar to the Spade King. "If you can read that when I return tomorrow, I will have Toris take you to the Winter Festival in a week," he offered.<p>

Alfred perked up despite how much he tried to hide it (he was always rather expressive) at the mention of a festival. "Sounds cold," he responded dismissively.

Ivan's smirk lifted, violet eyes showing that he knew he'd caught the other's attention, "You don't have to translate; just read it." With that, he turned to exit the room, pausing in the doorway for a moment, "Goodnight, King of Spades."

Alfred tilted his head and turned to see the taller monarch's back, "Um… yeah. Night, Clubs dude." The door shut softly with Alfred watching it for a moment. Well… that was a little awkward.

"You know… it's rude to keep your guests vaiting, especially ven their as awesome as me."

Alfred whirled around to the window, his eyes wide. No one had been there just seconds before. The first thing he noted was the shock of white hair and the ruby-like glow of crimson eyes, both of which seemed to be glowing with the backlighting of the full moon shining through the window behind him. The pale man sat in the window ceil, his back curved against one side, one booted foot propped up on the other side, and a lazy leg dangling off of the side. He wore thick black pants and a loose black and red coat that was unlike any type of make Alfred had ever seen. A black devil-like tail hung off of the jacket, coming to a wicked point for a piece of fabric. An equally devilish smirk rested confidently on the man's lips, causing red eyes to twinkle mischievously in the soft light.

"You know, I don't think assassins usually get manners from their targets," Alfred shot back, slipping into a defensive position.

The albino laughed, tilted his head back a little with the gesture. "Spunk. That's good. I might actually be able to make a little brat like you awesome—not as awesome as me, though; that's impossible," he responded, hopping neatly from his seat and onto his feet. He took several quick steps towards Alfred with that smug smirk.

Alfred threw a punch; there was no way he was going to let some assassin just walk up and kill him. His eyes widened when his fist hit something as solid as a stone wall halfway through the distance between them. A red ripple cut through the air as if it were a wave in the ocean. It was magic—_strong_ magic.

The smug smirk grew as the man reached forward and curled surprisingly strong fingers around the Spade King's wrist. With a quick tug, Alfred found an arm snaked around his neck, pulling him down and a hand roughly tousling his hair. "Respect your betters, brat," the man warned with an odd laugh that seemed to fit him so well, "_Und_ be grateful to your awesome teacher!"

Still recovering from the fact that either (1) this man was the worst assassin in the world or (2) he wasn't an assassin at all, Alfred managed to squirm enough to stair dumbly up at the albino, "You're freakin' crazy!"

A harsh flick to the nose cut him off. "Vat did I just say about respecting your betters? Besides, crazy is good when used properly," the intruder scolded before releasing the Spade King and taking a step back. Planting one hand on either hip in a manner that reminded Alfred of the drill sergeants back in Spades scolding the new recruits, the albino waited for the blonde to right himself again. "I'm Gilbert, the most awesome Joker ever, _und_ you, brat, are going to learn to be awesome from me, or the whole vorld vill be plunged into chaos _und _all of that good stuff. One second thought… why am I helping you?"

Alfred blinked, not even bothering to straighten his glasses. "Uh… What?"

* * *

><p><strong>T.T I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I had exams last week and a few problems that needed to be sorted out. Anyway, I hope that this still turned out pretty good since I was kind of depressed when I wrote a good hunk of it. <strong>

**Just to put in a little side note... Yes, Gilbert is teaching Alfred as my little tribute to the awesome training America got from Prussia during the American Revolutionary War. I just couldn't help myself; Gilbert teaching is probably one of the most amusing things I've seen~ It also works into the plot rather nicely (as you'll see in the next chatper). **

**Anyway~ Onto the more interesting bits of information:**

_Monarchy in Clubs_

**King: Unlike Spades, the King of Clubs has the final say on any matter of politics, economy, or judgment. While the Jack and Queen can make some of the decisions difficult, they don't have nearly the same degree of power that the King does. Kings in Clubs have notoriously short ruling spans given that Queens and Jacks have historically resorted to violence to get rid of the King for whatever reason. The current King of Clubs has already had a much longer rule than many of his predecessors. **

**Queen: Somewhat like the Queen of Spades, the Queen of Clubs is more of a military figure. Unlike Spades, however, it's more common for the Queen to lead the armies of Clubs without an appearance from the King. Originally, this was because the people of Clubs intended to protect the King from falling in battle, but it has become more of a custom than it has a means to protect the King. The current Queen of Clubs is hailed as a military hero and is well loved by the people. **

**Jack: The Jack of Clubs mainly acts as an ambassador to both the people of Clubs and foreign lands. Once again, the royal stations of Clubs were originally designed to keep the King (who held, and still holds, nearly absolute power) from having to leave the safety of the castle thanks to the plethora of would-be assassins. Jacks in Clubs, like the Jacks of Spades, are known for their intelligence and tact; they are also much more adapted to working with foreign contacts to gather aid for the country. **

_Aces_ (I figured I go ahead and put in a little about the Aces. I mentioned one in this chapter, and I plan to add in a few parts including them soon. These are non-cannon if I'm not mistaken.)

**Aces, unlike the monarchy, function the same in all of the four lands. There is a single Ace per kingdom, and that Ace is chosen-mostly-to act as a bodyguard for the royal trio. They are sworn to protect the monarchy, and often act as both a general champion of sorts for their kingdom and, occasionally, a sort of informant. They are notorious for working with shady contacts in order to get the job done. **

**The Ace of Spades: Currently, the Ace of Spades is the Queen's oldest brother (Scotland). **

* * *

><p><strong>As another side note, I'm still (sadly) looking for a beta. If anyone is interested, please feel free to send a PM. T.T I'll be your best friend. <strong>


	4. The End is in the Beginning

**Hey everyone, guess what: my profile isn't a veritable dead zone of inactivity anymore. :D Anyway, I must profusely apologize for the long delay in any activity connected to my account and the wait everyone had for this chapter; I ran into a **_**lot**_** of personal issues a while back, and it's pretty much been an emotional roller-coaster ride. Anyway, if anyone is still interested in this story, you'll be glad to know that I do intend to finish it up and get back onto near-weekly updates. If everything works out the way I'd like, I'm going to try and get out a chapter every Saturday. I'd also like to let you know that this story will have a tentative seven to ten more chapters before I think it'll be finished—but that's subject to change either way. **

**I also introduced an OC for a tiny minute (even though I believe that he's technically a character at the moment): Romania (Vlad). I hope no one really minds since he doesn't exactly play a big part in the story over all. **

**Anyway, I apologize for the lateness (and probably quality) of this chapter, and I'm very appreciative of the reviews you guys left; They're so awesome. ^^ I'll put in a warning that this was written fairly quickly and is unbetaed because I wanted to go ahead and get it out due to my long hiatus. But… Without further ado, here's my disclaimer:**

**Nope… Still don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

><p>…:…<em>The End is in the Beginning…:…<br>_

When Alfred woke up the next morning, he managed to chalk the whole incident with the mentally unstable albino Joker up to a weird dream brought on by some sort of freaky food withdraw. After all, he'd hardly had anything even remotely familiar since he left Spades. So, after picking up the little cot he'd slept on and half-heartedly tossing the blankets back on the bed, the blonde slipped on his glasses, dressed in his usual purples and blues, and headed out to try and find a kitchen. It wasn't until he decided that he'd past the same hallway four times and spent a grand total of an hour trying to find said kitchen that he decided that it probably hadn't been the wisest of choices to wonder around when he had knowledge of the general layout of the castle.

Slanting his lips in a habit he refused to admit probably came from living near Arthur for so many years, Alfred leaned against the familiar wall and looked down both ends of the hall. It wasn't that he actually needed _help_; he'd find his way eventually… It would just be nice to find the kitchens before his stomach decided to wake up the entire castle. Speaking of which… Sapphire eyes glanced down at the offending area as another growl echoed loudly in the empty halls. "Dude… this just sucks," he muttered, patting his stomach as though he were consoling a small animal.

He shook his head and pushed himself up off of the wall, deciding to try again. Within another ten minutes, he almost left out a sigh of relief when he heard two voices speaking rapidly in a language Alfred didn't know. He headed towards the noise with a lazy smile on his lips; maybe they could show him to the kitchen. Without a moment's hesitation, he walked right into the open room.

He blinked several times and battled with the sudden urge to try and sneak back out of the room. Elizabeta was leering at a green-clad man with dark blonde hair and, oddly enough, red eyes. Said man was smirking in a manner that had an odd resemblance to the weird Joker that Alfred had convinced himself he'd dreamed up. If it wasn't for a small height difference, hair color, and the fact that Alfred was pretty sure the weirdo Joker _didn't _have a… fang poking out of his lips, the Spade King might have thought the guy before him could have been related to the albino could have been related.

Unfortunately, in his shock, Alfred was too slow to ease out of the room before a set of red eyes landed on him. "So… King of Spades, huh?" he commented with a fairly heavy accent as he turned to fully face the other blonde, "You don't look like much to me."

Elizabeta's frown deepened, and she moved to smack the red-eyed man on the back with enough force to almost make Alfred cringe, "Why don't you go do your job instead of trying to pick a fight?"

The stranger staggered two steps forward before glancing over his shoulder to look at the Queen of Clubs with a strange teasing look that was edging on a leer. He turned back around to face the brunette with a fluid motion and dipped into a mock-bow that oozed sarcasm, "I always do my job, but nobody ever said anything about you having to happy about that." With that, he stood back up to his full height and turned towards the door with a smirk back in place. Just before he passed Alfred, the odd man saluted him. The second he was out in the hallway, he turned back around to blow a kiss towards the Club Queen who seemed to twitch irritably before he vanished down the corridors.

For a minute, Alfred wasn't really sure what to say to break the awkward silence, and Elizabeta didn't seem like she was paying much attention. "So… That guy was totally weird," he commented with a somewhat forced grin.

Green eyes blinked twice before refocusing on Alfred. Some of the tension leaked out of her shoulders, and she approached the king. "Yes," she agreed, "That was Vlad. Unfortunately, he is the Ace of Clubs."

Alfred tried to bite back his laughter, bit a snicker slipped out anyway. Elizabeta shot him a warning glance, and he quickly lifted his hands and explained, "Sorry, it's just… Artie totally doesn't get along with our Ace, either. But I guess that's probably 'cause they're brothers, and you know how that goes."

The brunette took in the information before her expression softened into a small smile. Their conversation was cut short by a low rumble meant to remind Alfred that he was starving and a good hour past his usual breakfast time. Elizabeta pressed a hand to her mouth as she giggled and motioned Alfred to follow her as she left the room. "Couldn't find one of the kitchens?" she asked good-humoredly.

Alfred quickly shook his head and threw on his best pouting face, "No! I totally coulda found it…just maybe not before lunch."

That earned another laugh from Elizabeta, "I'll show you then."

The rest of the walk down the halls was surprisingly short and filled with Alfred's questions about Clubs and Elizabeta's questions about Spades. Alfred found himself relaxing a bit more; at least he could find decent people to talk to in Clubs.

* * *

><p>Antonio grinned as he sat near the wooden railing of his ship and looked out at the open ocean. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the salt-laden breeze and relished the feel of the winds against his face. There was nowhere on land that could compare to any place out at sea for the pirate captain. Life on the mainland was complicated and burdened; life at sea was one of constant adventure and struggle. It was a thrill, and the captain loved almost every minute of it.<p>

"The boy is stubborn." Antonio opened his green eyes and glanced at the albino dressed in black now leaning casually against the crates that Antonio sat on.

"Gilly!" he greeted with a wide smile, "When did you get back? I almost thought for a while there that you wouldn't be able to get back on board after we left. That Joker stuff is really pretty cool, isn't it, _amigo_? You can just appear anywhere you want, eh?"

Gilbert grinned, oozing with self-confidence as he folded his arms over his chest, "_Ja_, it has its uses. Anyvay. As I vas saying: that boy is an idiot _und_ it's going to take every ounce of mein awesome to pull this one off."

Antonio looked back out at the ocean. He scoffed playfully, "I'm sure you'll have plenty of awesome left over. Besides, you're stubborn, and you always say that that's a good thing, right?" The pause in conversation was odd. Antonio wasn't used to extended periods of silences when Gilbert was present. It was almost unnerving. "Did you see them?" the brunette finally asked, trying to make conversation.

Gilbert's smirk fell into a frown, and tension almost tangibly entered the atmosphere, "_Nein_."

Quickly picking up on the change, Antonio skillfully shifted gears and hopped down off on his crates, unsheathing his sword and pointing it challengingly in Gilbert's direction, "Come on, _amigo_. Let's see if you've gotten rusty, eh?"

Gilbert's grin was back in an instant, and he pushed himself back up and shrugged, "Sorry, Toni, but you don't stand a chance. Don't worry, though: I'll try to leave your boat in one piece."

* * *

><p>"So… you had a weird dream and you decided that you have to eat grease-covered meat in order to stop it from happening again?"<p>

Alfred nodded enthusiastically as he grinned down at his self-cooked burger. Sure, it wasn't nearly as good as Yao's burgers (when he chose to cook them) and food, but at the very least, it was something he was used to. "Yup," he agreed before digging in, "This weirdo Joker that showed up and kept saying he was gonna teach me how to be "awesome" so I could beat the other Jokers. I kinda blame Ivan, too, 'cause he attacked Nantucket, and bad things always happen whe—Hey, are you okay?"

Elizabeta had gone unnaturally still and was watching Alfred with a pale, wide-eyed stare. The fork she had been using to pick at her food hit her plate with a light _clink_. "What did you say?" she breathed.

Alfred blinked several times, feeling an odd twist of dread like he'd just said something he really shouldn't have, "Um… Bad things happen when Nantucket gets attacked…?"

The Queen shook her head, "No. The Joker. He used the word awesome?"

Alfred hesitantly nodded, "Yeah… The dude said it more times than I could freakin' count. And Artie complains about me bein' repetitive…"

Elizabeta shook her head again, slowly this time. Her green eyes were locked on the table and etched with clearly conflicting emotions. Eventually, a painfully forced smile tugged at her lips, and she stood up from the table. "Excuse me," she said softly, "I… have something I need to think about."

Alfred nodded and watched as she left. Well that was certainly weird…

* * *

><p>After the incident at breakfast, Alfred returned to his room and picked up the page he was supposed to be able to read for the first time. He slanted his lips as he collapsed back on his bed and held the page up in the air for convince. Of course Ivan wouldn't give him anything easy to do; that would be way too nice for the Club King.<p>

He made it halfway through the words before he dropped his hand, taking the page with it. He let out a groan and moved his hands up to rub at his eyes under his glasses. He wasn't sure how long he laid there until the knock on the door came. Blinking, the Spade King sat up and looked at the door, "What's up?"

The door opened, and Toris walked in with a large stack of papers tucked under his arm. He smiled warmly at the king, and Alfred smiled back. "King Ivan wanted me to show you a few things around the castle," he explained before motioning to the papers, "And I thought that I could drop off a few papers on the way."

Alfred nodded and climbed up to his feet with a wide grin, "Dude that'd be freakin' sweet! I'm so freakin' bored in here."

Toris laughed softly and nodded, motioning Alfred to follow him. The pair set off down the hallways with Alfred taking his usual place rambling about whatever happened to pop in his mind. Toris seemed much more amused than offended by the whole ordeal and occasionally flipped through the pages he carried to hand several of them off to someone they passed in the hall or point out a room that was particularly useful to Alfred.

"Hey, what's the Winter Festival about, anyway?" Alfred finally asked after they passed the kitchen (the King dedicated a decent bit of his memory to etching the route in his mind).

Toris looked a bit surprised, "Well… it actually started at a superstition to ward off a long, hard winter, but it grew into something more festive. Now people come from all over to country to hear the king's speech and set up shops around the capital. It's all usually very nice. If you don't mind, though… Who told you about it?"

Alfred blinked and turned his attention form the halls to Toris. Obviously Ivan hadn't said a word to Toris about it. "Ivan did," he answered before frowning, "I'm pretty sure he just said it to torment me 'cause there's no way I can read that freakin' paper. He probably knows that, too."

He wasn't expecting Toris to shoot him a sheepish look as though he was about to try and correct Alfred, "Um… I don't think that…"

"But that's totally cool, 'cause I'm gonna prove him wrong and read it better than he can!" Alfred announced, his grin brimming with self-confidence, "The look on his face'll be _priceless_!"

Toris laughed nervously and hesitantly nodded, "Yeah… Of course." Things were somewhat quiet for a while with the exception of Toris handing out paperwork and giving directions (Alfred was pretty sure he quite listening after he memorized where the kitchen was).

On the return trip, Alfred hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he asked the question that had been bugging him since the night before, "So… How come Elizabeta and the Jack don't like Mr. Tall, Pale, and Smiley?"

The brunette looked as though he'd been taken by surprise once again before his expression shifted into a forced smile, and his eyes looked towards the ground. "It's… a long story," he responded cryptically.

Alfred frowned. He wasn't one to just let sleeping dogs lie. He could see how the Jack and Ivan would likely clash; the Jack seemed like he would be efficient and by the book… Ivan seemed more likely to find loopholes and use them (a quality Alfred refused to admit they had in common). However, Elizabeta seemed like a fairly warm person (except when dealing with people like the Ace of Clubs). The way the young King saw it, something must have happened to drive that big of a stake between the Clubs royalty. He put on his best encouraging smile, "C'mon, dude. I've got all the time in the world."

Toris sighed. "If you insist…" he agreed, "Our last Ace… was not actually from Clubs. I'm not exactly sure how it came to be, but what I heard was the Ace originally came from Hearts and was forced to move here when our countries were at war with Hearts. He was very close to the Jack and Queen—though none of them would admit it then. He was a sort of champion to the people—never defeated in battle and brilliant with battlefield tactics if not a bit over-confident. The only one who seemed to clash havily with him—besides the nobles, mind you—was the King himself.

"When the war began to escalate, some… information came to the court's attention: someone had been giving information to Hearts. Two weeks later… we found out that the Ace was the elder brother of the King of Hearts. Several of the noble families came to the only logical conclusion: someone was passing vital information that only a high-ranking officer would have to Hearts, the Ace had blood ties to Hearts and not Clubs, and he hated the King of Clubs. The Ace…never stood a chance against the accusations in such a time of paranoia and fear—even if there was no hard evidence. Three months after the… execution, the war ended, and it came to light that the Ace was not the one who betrayed Clubs; he was set up to disguise the true criminal.

"After that… Queen Elizabeta and Roderich have not cared very much for King Ivan. The King of Hearts was outraged, and all trade between Clubs and Hearts has come to a standstill. The King of Diamonds didn't react any better—he was close friends with our Ace, you see. And… that's it."

By the time the story was finished, Alfred was clinching his fists and frowning deeply, "So Ivan condemned a man to death because it _looked_ like he did something?"

Toris flinched when he realized what he'd unintentionally done, "I don't… Alfred, don't think that—"

"No, it's cool," the Spade King cut in even though it very clearly wasn't, "I just forgot about somethin' is all. …What were you saying about the food at this weird festival of yours?"

Toris sighed heavily and made a mental note to apologize profusely to Ivan for whatever monster he'd just unleashed. Chances were, the Club king was going to have his hands full when he decided to check on Alfred's progress with his language that evening.

* * *

><p>After a day full of meetings and barely managing to preserve enough dignity to not actually <em>beg<em> the nobles to consolidate their efforts in order to prepare for the Jokers, the King of Clubs all but ran out of the throne room. Despite his height, his steps were quick and economical as he made his way to the guest room that now belonged to the King of Spades. Though he would never admit it, a ghost of a smile twitched at his lips when he recalled that this well-loved King was the same one who took such great offense to "violence" against his stubborn, gravity-defying cowlick. Perhaps, if he was honest with himself, the company of the other King was somewhat refreshing after a day of being stuck around a Queen and Jack who barely tolerated him, nobles who thought they had more influence than the entire royal court combined, and servants who skirted around him as though he could turn rabid at any minute. The Spade King was an odd mixture of childish glee, unmovable stubbornness and pride, and an energy that never seemed to fully drain from his actions. At the same times, however, the boy truly seemed to believe in most of the optimistic, bordering naïve, claims he made. It was odd, having to deal with someone who was so… sincere.

He pushed the thoughts aside when he made it to the correct door and knocked. Oddly enough, there was no answer. Tilting his head, Ivan knocked again, "You're not avoiding me because you did not study, are you, little king?"

"C'mon in," came the responding grumble.

Platinum brows drew closer together. Well that was… odd. He had thought that they were past the outright anger. He opened the door and stepped in the room before closing it back behind him. The King of Spades was sitting at his desk with his back turned to Ivan. The King of Clubs stayed back towards the door as though he would disturb a fragile, volatile peace if he took another step forward.

"So you're the guy who killed Ludwig's brother," the accusing tone almost didn't sound right with the younger blonde's usually energetic voice.

Ivan's frown immediately deepened. So that was it. Surely, if no one else understood, it would have been another King. "You, too, then?" the comment slipped out before he could stop it with a hint of bitterness he would have rather kept hidden.

Alfred stood up and turned to face Ivan with a challenging glare that Ivan wasn't really used to seeing pointed in his direction, "Yeah, me, too. You had an innocent guy _killed_. Isn't that what a good King is supposed to _stop_ from happening? Or did you just go along with 'cause you didn't like 'em."

Maybe it was the years of hearing the whispers that were (intentionally) just a little too loud, dealing with the leers and shadowed glances, or the sound of the words coming from the lips of another King; maybe there was just something instinctive that allowed the two Kings to press _just_ the right button to send the other into some sort of furry. Either way, something snapped, and, in the next moment, the King of Spades found his back slammed against the wall and strong arm barring against his shoulders. Alfred looked up into violet eyes with his own wide sapphires. The surprise quickly faded, and his expression quickly reverted back to the same daring look from before. "You know _nothing_," Ivan responded in a poisonous whisper, "If you cannot understand this, than you are not fit to be a true king."

"True kings are supposed to protect their people, not send innocent men to their deaths because you _think_ they might be involved!" Alfred shot back, "That's not right, and it's not justice."

"What exactly _is_ justice, little king?" Ivan hissed, "Sparing one man at the cost of thousands? There was _no other choice_."

Alfred shook his head, obviously not realizing just how close he was to triggering a landmine or not caring, "There's _always_ a choice to do what's right! It's just easier not to."

The arm bracing the shorter blonde against the wall pressed down with enough force to make Alfred wince, but he never dropped his eyes. Somewhere, in the part of his mind that wasn't enraged, the Club King respected the courage and condemned the stupidity of the provoking action. A cruel grin curled on the taller blonde's lips; if Alfred wanted to play with razor-like words, he would be all too happy to retaliate. "Naïve ребенок," he cooed sarcastically, "You have done similar things in the past, you know—imprisoning Spade citizens because they were "spies" for Clubs. I had one man executed, and my whole court despises me; you destroy hundreds of lives, and your people _love_ you. What is the difference, I wonder…"

For the first time since the exchange began, Alfred faulted, "I didn't… I mean I… I _had_ to." Those sapphire eyes slid from Ivan's to the ground, and the arm pressing down on his chest loosened just a fraction.

"Я знаю," Ivan commented with a muted, victorious look, "Because you… had no other choice, da? Is funny how that works sometimes."

The forlorn, conflicted look on the shorter king's face quickly melted into one of anger, but Ivan could still see the stirring emotion in his expressive blue eyes. Alfred lifted his hands up to the arm that pinned him and paused for a moment, and for an odd moment, Ivan almost felt guilty for being the one to break the naivety that clouded the younger man's judgments. It was quickly shoved aside in favor of practicality and his own sense of justice; the warm hands on his arm and the pitiful look in Alfred's usually cheerful and vivid eyes wouldn't sway him when there was a job to be done. "Get off," was the only warning from the shorter blonde before he shoved with an unexpected force.

They watched each other for several silent seconds, but neither one made a move to break the tension. Eventually, Alfred sighed and slid back down into his chair with his back once again to Ivan. Ivan turned towards the door; there was too much anger floating between the two of them at the moment.

He paused as his hand touched the door handle when he heard Alfred's voice, but his mind didn't exactly process the slow, almost painfully pronounced words for several seconds.

Alfred was reading.

Letting go of the doorknob, Ivan turned back around to see the paper with his own dark pen marks clutched tightly in the Spade King's hands. He could almost imagine the frustrated look on Alfred's face: the pinched brows, slanted lips during the short pauses, and the stubborn determination that would flash in his eyes as he practically barrel rolled through the words. If he hadn't been so surprised by the sudden change in mood, Ivan would have wondered why he paid enough attention to Alfred to notice such little details.

Ivan was still and silent until the very last word was spoken. At that point, Alfred sighed and dropped the paper before he shot a half-hearted grin over his shoulder, "So, pretty freakin' good, right?"

Ivan's surprised look slowly eased into a light fit of chuckles. Surely the King of Spades was either a master of the unpredictable, acting constantly like a force of nature, or just insane. Alfred's expression quickly shifted into something akin to a pout mixed with a leer. One blonde brow rose impatiently in as a clear substitution for the question "what?" Ivan shook his head and made his way back into the room to stand next to the chair Alfred occupied; those blue eyes never left him as he traveled. "It's just… your accent is horrible," he explained, finally catching ahold of his laughter. For a moment, he almost wondered if it was considered mentally healthy to want to strangle someone one minute and tease them the next. He dismissed it quickly: people under their level of stress probably deserved to have a few less-than-stable moments.

Alfred's look of outrage was painfully more playful in light of the one he'd been wearing only minutes ago, "Dude, that' rich, comin' from you. Have you _listened _to yourself lately?"

Ivan continued to smile his usual smile while he reached out to flick "Nantucket," "Da, I have, but you are the student here—not me—because I was not too lazy to learn your language years ago."

As expected, Alfred grabbed the lock of hair and covered it with both hands as he glared at Ivan, a faint pink tenting his cheeks, "That's abuse, man! You're not allowed to mess with Nantucket!"

An odd sense of tranquility fell over the taller monarch. When was the last time he had been allowed to just tease someone? It had to have been before he and his sisters were separated… He lifted a pale brow, "I would be careful if I was you."

Alfred blinked twice before he let go of his head, "Uh… How come?"

Resting one hand against the back of Alfred's chair, Ivan leaned down until his chin was close enough to Alfred's shoulder that he could feel the warmth rolling off the Spade King in waves. The pink from earlier returned much to the Club King's amusement. Lower his voice to a whisper as though he had some all-important secret, Ivan teased, "The maids are always on the lookout for… _suggestive_ gossip, and I do not think that they would know just what a Nantucket is, hm?"

The pink quickly evolved to full-fledged red, and Ivan decided that it was a good look for the shorter blonde. Figuring that the fish-like, speechless opening and closing of Alfred's mouth meant the poor boy would likely faint with anymore teasing, Ivan stood back up to his full height and moved the hand he'd rested on the chair to ruffle Alfred's golden-blonde locks as though he were a child (they were surprisingly soft). "So, do I get to go to this festival thing or not?" Alfred asked when he finally recovered, "'Cause I can always sneak out and go anyway if you say no."

Ivan pretended to consider his options for a moment, his eyes aimed up at the ceiling and an index finger lazily tapping against his chin. "Okay. I will take you," he finally answered with an all too innocent smile. Alfred blinked and tilted his head. Before he could ask, Ivan cut in again, "Just so you do not embarrass poor Toris when someone tries to speak with you. He is a good employee. I would not want him to quit because he could not show face in public due to humiliation."

Alfred gaped again and shot to his feet, reaching to grab a fist full of a pale scarf and green cloth. Ivan watched him without making a move just to see what he'd do. After several seconds of inaction, the curious pink twinge was back, and the Spade King let go of the fabric before unceremoniously dropping back into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest like a small child.

"Yeah, well… Now I'm totally gonna humiliate you on purpose," he finally mumbled.

Ivan chuckled and shook his head before heading for the door once again, "Удачи, немного подсолнечного. Good night."

Alfred mouthed the words several times as though trying to figure out if he should know them. At the _click_ that signaled the closing of the door, he gave up and frowned at the door, "Yeah… Night to you, too, big guy."

Alfred spent the next two hours all but literately smacking his head against the table, mentally scolding himself for… whatever that was.

* * *

><p>Alfred generally enjoyed his dreams as long as they didn't involve ghosts or something freakin' creep like that. He especially loved the dreams in which he was out adventuring around Spades like Arthur had before he'd become the Queen of Spades. There was something intrinsically awesome about beating almost ridiculous enemies down in order to protect Spades without the terror of actually having to worry about losing the battle. That's why Alfred absolutely <em>hated<em> when such amazing dreams were interrupted, and the person smacking his head in an attempt to coax him into consciousness that night was no exception.

"Hey, what's the big idea? I'm tryin' to slee—mmmph!" A hand clamped down over his mouth before Alfred had the chance to finish yelling. He was about to bite down on the offending appendage when his blurred vision registered ruby eyes and pale hair. He froze and simply stared until Gilbert decided to move his hand.

"Here, put these on," he commanded, shoving glasses on Alfred's face before he even had a chance to move. The Spade King frowned when one of the legs of his glasses jabbed his ear.

"Gimme those," he mumbled, brushing Gilbert's hands away before adjusting the frames on his face and sitting up. _It's just a dream, Al_, he reminded himself stubbornly even though he was fairly certain that dreams didn't quite feel like he was wide awake—well… partially awake. "Look, dude, can I get back to my other dream? It's a lot cooler than this one."

Gilbert grinned and shook his head, "Nein. Nothing is 'cooler' than me anyway. Get up. It's time to see vhat you can do since I let you off easy yesterday."

Alfred groaned and rolled his eyes, "Yeah… No, thanks." With that, he slumped back down on his pillow, completely ignoring that he was still wearing his glasses. He was too tired for this kind of crap.

A line of what sounded distinctly like curses in a foreign language emitted from the area where the albino had been standing, and Alfred wondered if he'd ever actually tried to go to sleep in a dream before. "Get up!" Gilbert demanded before his voice took on a tone that was far too sing-song to mean anything good, "Okay. You vant to act like a child? I'll treat you like a child. I'm going to count to three, und then you will regret it!" Alfred responded by shoving one of his pillows over his head. "_Eins_… _Zw_—ah, screw that." Before Alfred could register his momentary lack of the ability to breath and the pain blossoming in his side that signaled the first stages of a nasty bruise, he was sprawled out on the ground in a tangle of green blankets with his glasses eschewed on his face.

Okay… Maybe it wasn't a dream after all. He'd been exposed to fire-breathing dragons and hadn't even been scratched in his dreams, but that kick really hurt. He pushed himself up into a sitting position with his hands and leered at Gilbert, "Just what d'ya think you're doing?"

Gilbert's grin, if it was even possible, had grown a bit smugger as he regarded the fallen prince, "Get up, brat; you've got a lot of vork to do, _und_ I'm not going to let you slack off."

"You've got a screwed up way of convincin' somebody to do what you want… You know that?" Alfred mumbled as he pulled himself up to his feet and adjusted his glasses again, "Why should I even listen to you, huh? Aren't Jokers supposed to be the bad guys?"

Gilbert took three quick steps over to stand in front of Alfred and inspected him with a pale hand placed on his chin as though he were sizing up a soldier. He shook his head with a few "tsk"s before he took a step back. "Vhy listen to me, you ask? Because, if you don't, you von't stand a chance of fighting off the invasion. See, all Jokers have these neat little tricks vith magic, _und_ you are defenseless to fight them if you do not know vhat to expect. I'm doing you a favor; be grateful, brat."

Alfred sighed, "Okay. Sure. Why come to me, though? I mean, shouldn't you be teaching like… I donno… a whole freakin' _army_ how to fight Jokers?"

Gilbert laughed as though the idea was about as ridicules as situation itself was, "Nein. It's your own fault for being Spades royalty, you know. The magic that held back the original Jokers was from Spades _und_ because of that, your country is the only one who can fix it."

"You mean that curse thing that one of the Queens put on the Jokers?" Alfred asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. If it had just been concerning himself, he wouldn't have cared nearly as much as the idea that Yao and Arthur were caught up in whatever Gilbert was getting at as well.

Gilbert nodded, "Kind of. But that isn't important right now. By the time I am done vith you, you vill fight like a real king _und_ not like a little boy. Oh, _und_ if you think that you can just slack off, let me just remind you of this: the Jokers vill be in Spades first. The vay I see it, you could use any help you can get. It just so happens that I'm the _best_ help you can get. Any questions?"

Alfred almost debated telling the weird Joker to get lost. But, of course, he did actually have a valid point: he could use any help he could get, and Gilbert was probably the only person with information on the Jokers that was from first-hand experience and not from age-old superstitions. Still… something told him that Ivan's lessons were going to look like recess compared to Gilbert's. With a sigh, he finally responded, "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

Gilbert nodded approvingly before taking his place from the night before on the window ceil. "Get into a fighting stance; I vant to see vhat I have to vork vith."

Alfred complied with the dreadful feeling that it was going to be a _long_ night, "How's this?"

"Perfect!" Gilbert responded before snickering, "If you vant to get punched in the face _und_ knocked over, that is. Your hands are too far apart, _und_ your feet are too close together."

Yeah… It was going to be a really long night.

* * *

><p><strong>Whew. I wrote all day one this one so you guys could have it. T.T My hands and brain kind of hurt (and I think my hair may have caught fire at one point…). Once again, I apologize profusely for the wait, and I hope that this chapter didn't disappoint too badly. As I said earlier, this is unbetaed even though I have had two lovely offers. I wanted to get this out as soon as possible since I'd already made you wait so long. I'll be talking to the two beta offers soon since it's been so long. Please let me know if I did something wrong with this chapter (I'm not too happy with it, if you can tell), and I'll try to fix it up if I need to. If you're unhappy with it, maybe it'll consul you to know that there's going to be a RusAme moment in the next chapter~ <strong>

**Anyway, I don't think I introduced anything new to the verse at the moment, so I'll sign off now. ^^ Hope you enjoyed. **

Ja - Yes

Nein - No

Amigo - friend

Und - and

Я знаю - I know

Удачи, немного подсолнечного - Good luck, little sunflower.


	5. Festivals and Midnight Meetings

**Hello again~ Pirate here, but you already knew that. ^^ I want to send a BIG thank you to everyone who is still reading as well as a super-awesome thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys are so nice to me, and I really, really appreciate it. Once again, I was so busy with school stuff that I totally forgot to get into contact with potential betas, so this one is also unbetaed. I'll do my best stop being lazy and write the chapter early enough to be betaed this week. :P Anyway, I hope that you're all still enjoying this, so… here you go~**

**Yeah… the disclaimer should be pretty obvious by now: I have no claims to Hetalia.**

* * *

><p><em>...:...<em>_Festivals and Midnight Meetings...:..._

Unfortunately for Alfred, waking up after one of Gilbert's "awesome" training sessions happened in slow stages. The first thing he was actually aware of was the fact that his side was defiantly bruised if the dull pang near his ribs was any indication. The next thing he noticed was the sore stiffness in his limbs that came as a result of two straight hours of trying to dodge the Joker's onslaught of attacks. It was—to use the Joker's own term—totally "unawesome."

After six days of waking up in the same manner, Alfred was beginning to get used to a lack of sleep combined with the strain of relentless exercise. If there was one thing that could be said about Gilbert, it was that he certainly knew what he was talking about. Alfred grudgingly admitted that it almost seemed like the man was born and bred for fighting even if he was a total slave driver. During the past few days, Alfred felt like he'd picked up more than he had in a whole year's worth of the classes that Yao had arranged for him when he was a scrawny—but no less dashing—teenager. Still… after three days of increasing frustration on the albino Joker's part, it seemed like there was something missing that Gilbert hadn't quite been able to teach…

_Knock, knock_.

Alfred blinked and looked toward the door—the source of the noise. "Uh… Yeah?" he answered unceremoniously.

"Alfred, sir," Toris's muffled voice called through the door, "I have a letter for you."

Alfred blinked a few times at the wooden door before he climbed out of bed with a low groan, silently cursing Gilbert and his crazy training. He managed to slip on his glasses along the way. His trip to the door was fairly slow, but he eventually made it and turned the knob to face Toris with a yawn. "Awesome!" the blonde chirped before mentally cringing at his use of the word, "Er… Sweet. Who's it from?"

Toris smiled and handed the crisp white parchment out to the Spade King, "I do not know, but it much be from one of your fellow royals: the seal is from the house of Spades."

Alfred's smile widened, and his complaints were quieted as he took the letter, "Thanks, dude. You rule."

Toris chuckled, "I wouldn't say that… Just give me your response, and I will have it sent when you are done. Ah. And King Ivan asks that you be prepared for the festival at dusk. He will meet you here then and um… _politely_ requires that you not make him late for his own speech."

Alfred wondered for a moment if Ivan sent that message just so that Alfred would disobey. He pushed the thought aside in favor of the letter. "As if I care if that guy's late to his big speech," he laughed before beginning to close the door as a warning that Toris should back up, "See ya later, Toris."

The brunette looked like he was going to protest, but he took the hint, sighed and left before the door closed completely.

Alfred, on the other hand, rushed over to his desk, refusing to admit that his training "wounds" probably weren't that bad if he could still move that fast. The minute he was seated, he slipped his thumb under the wax seal, admiring its familiar look of the dark blue wax and spade-shaped impression for the faintest of seconds before he broke it and opened the letter. His eyes scanned the letter, and he smiled warmly at the sight of Arthur's loopy, curled script. With a care he wouldn't be caught dead using, he smoothed the letter out on his desk.

_Dear git,_

_I assume that—if you are reading this—you have arrived at Clubs relatively safely. I send my regards to—_

_Ignore that previous bit… For some reason, I cannot bring myself to write to you as though this is a proper letter to a king. I imagine that might have something to do with the fact that there would be far too many large words for you to grasp, and I'd rather not give you a headache—not that I care, of course. _

_Spades is… doing well, I suppose—as well as it can without its king, anyway. I wouldn't want to inflate your already enormous ego by relaying to you exactly how many cries of outrage were heard at the council several days ago. It is… different now that you aren't around to toss about your stupid, ludicrous ideas (and I, for one, am not missing them a bit). However, Yao and I are in control of the situation. It seems that Spades will prosper so… I suppose I would thank you for that if I wasn't so angry with you. I hope that you're happy with this decision, Alfred, because you certainly cannot change your mind now. _

_Ah, anyway… There is a meeting in half an hour, and I must prepare. I simply wanted to know if I should rally the troops or if you managed to survive the trip to Clubs. If anyone could be thrown overboard for being a nuisance, it would be you. Do write back soon, Alfred. I… really do hope that you are doing well._

_Sincerely, _

_Arthur, Queen of Spades_

_PS Yao sends his regards and tells me that the scones I intended to send would not survive the journey, but that is your loss, lad. _

Alfred sighed somewhat wearily before he carefully folded up the letter and set it aside. After practically growing up with Arthur, it was fairly easy to spot the attempts at covering concern. The blonde almost frowned as he gathered writing material and began to compose his reply. Somehow, he had to warn Arthur about the Jokers… without sounding insane. With a small shrug, Alfred dipped his quill in the ink bottle. Subtle was never really his style anyway.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day was oddly quiet for Alfred. He watched the busy work of the townsfolk putting up colorful banners, signs, and booths along the streets from his window with a strange mixture of tranquility and anticipation. Despite the cold, he opened his window a few hours past lunch, and let the smell of baking food drift up to his room. He used up several pages of scratch parchment and a decent portion of a stick of charcoal doodling little figures and familiar things from Spades along with several of the interesting designs of the banners in the streets. He would never admit to anyone that he was dressed and ready to leave for the festival an hour before dusk actually arrived.<p>

At the sound of a knock, the blonde was on his feet and heading to the door. By the time the knocks died away, the door was open, and amethyst colored eyes met sapphire. The taller raised a platinum brow, "Ready so soon?"

Alfred found it hard to force a pout, so he didn't bother to try, "No way you're gonna ruin this dude. Show me to the food!"

Ivan appeared to be on the verge of a chuckle. He motioned with one hand to one of the halls, allowing Alfred to slip out of his room and close the door before he took the lead through the Clubs castle. "I will make speech first," Ivan instructed, "And _then_ you may eat your weight in sweets."

Alfred brushed off the comment without a second thought, "Yeah, yeah. But you're payin'." Ivan's amusement increased just a fraction, and the rest of the walk was surprisingly non-violent.

They stopped in front of a pair of large glass doors that opened to a large, elaborated balcony. Toris was stationed near one of the doors with a piece of parchment in his hands. He offered the page up to Ivan who shook his head and walked out onto the balcony. Alfred blinked and glanced towards Toris, "Uh…"

"Go, go," Toris urged quietly, pointing to the balcony, "It will tell the people that there will be peace between Spades and Clubs."

Alfred didn't need any more urging. He hurried through the door and stopped somewhere towards the back. Down below, in the streets, a massive crowd had gathered to look up at the balcony. Elizabeta stood off to the right of Ivan, her large broadsword strapped to her hip. Roderich was at the left of the Club king, but the space between the two of them was almost twice that between the king and queen. The brunette's shoulders were so tense that Alfred was pretty sure they were almost shaking, and his fists were clinched tight at his side.

Alfred frowned and stepped in, taking up some a portion of the expansive space between the Jack of Clubs and the King as though it was made for him. Honestly, he was almost certain that he'd just broken some unwritten taboo, but Alfred wasn't ever one to really care much about being sensitive to traditions. Two sets of violet eyes and one set of green snapped in his direction, and the Spade King laughed sheepishly. Ivan was the first to return his attention to the crowd, quickly followed by Elizabeta. Roderich, however, shot Alfred a stern stare for several tense seconds before turning his gaze back to the crowd with a motion that was somehow aristocratic and disapproving.

Thankfully for Alfred, Elizabeta began to speak. Unfortunately for Alfred, he couldn't comprehend a word she was saying. So, doing what he did best, the blonde disconnected his mind from his situation and merely grinned. After a few minutes, Roderich added in his speech. Somehow, Alfred was almost certain he'd heard several of the words the Jack was using. He dropped that idea, figuring that he'd probably heard the language at a boring meeting somewhere.

When Ivan began to speak, the Spade King glanced his way. While he'd actually been studying (not that he'd ever admit), he had a hard time catching up with the seemingly elaborate sentences full of long words that Alfred nearly cringed at the idea of trying to pronounce himself. Still, the cadences of the speech and the tone in which the monarch spoke was enough to catch and hold his attention, even if he only managed to catch a few words out of the entire thing.

When Ivan concluded, there was silence before the crowd erupted in applause. Alfred tore his eyes off of Ivan to look down at the distant crowd. A hint of a smile touched his lips when he spotted smiles. They seemed to be genuinely pleased with whatever their court had just told them.

A warm hand on his shoulder snapped Alfred's attention up to violet eyes. "Now I show you to the food," Ivan offered. Alfred glanced around the balcony. He managed to catch the sight of Roderich's green coattail vanishing down the hall as the Jack rushed away from the scene. Elizabeta wasn't far behind, leaving the two blondes alone on the balcony.

Alfred nodded eagerly, "I'm freakin' stravin', man."

* * *

><p>The festival, as it turned out, was just as fun as Alfred had been imaging all day. The booths were full of a combination of crafts and foods, and the sound of music added a new layer to the activities. Within the first six booths, Alfred had picked out a fairly large sampling of food. One of the booth-keepers had been curious enough to give him a basket to carry about his small culinary collection in, and the blonde cheerfully worked on cleaning it out and refilling it while Ivan followed, usually only speaking when it came time to pay. While Alfred wasn't exactly sure what the exchange rate for Spades and Clubs money was, he was fairly sure that the taller blonde was paying rather generously. Oddly enough, the Club King had only purchased one bottle of what Alfred assumed was alcohol, which the taller blonde turned up occasionally to take quick shots from.<p>

Alfred turned his attention from his companion to one of the many street performance going on near them. He grinned and grabbed hold of Ivan's sleeve with his free hand in order to tug the taller man along with him as he joined the crowd watching. A small group of musicians sat off to the side of the group while another group of people were dancing to the music. Alfred's grin widen as he watched the impressive acrobatic stunts preformed simultaneously to the beat of the music.

He whipped his eyes over to Ivan who stood at his right. A pleasant half-smile was present on the taller blonde's lips as he watched. Alfred could feet the warmth from Ivan against his arm from the small distance between them, and the stark contrast of the cool weather only emphasized it. Alfred's comment died on his lips as he watched the Club King for a moment.

When the dance was finished, Ivan finally seemed to catch the shorter monarch's stare and returned it. "It is a fun dance," he commented, gently leading Alfred away with the dissipating crowd via a hand on his shoulder. One more long drink from the bottle; it was almost empty now.

"You can dance?" was the first thing to fly out of Alfred's mouth before he could stop it. The idea of the tall man being agile on his feet was an interesting picture, and Alfred momentarily recalled the surprising speed with which he'd been thrown against the wall during their spat a week ago. For a minute, he almost wondered if the rumors regarding the Club King's supposed brutal efficiency on the battlefield was just a rumor or not. Looking up at the seemingly tranquil man, Alfred had a rough time fitting the two pictures together.

Ivan nodded before finishing off the bottle, "Da. I used to a long time ago." He glanced down at the shorter monarch who had taken to staring. "What? Is so surprising?"

Alfred shook his head, not bothering to point out that Ivan's accent was getting thicker after a bottle full of alcohol. "What else happens during this weirdo festival of yours?" he asked, changing the subject.

Ivan looked at his empty bottle with a frown before heading towards another booth. Alfred followed behind. After all, nothing separated Alfred from his meal ticket. "Fireworks will begin soon," Ivan answered after he picked up another bottle, "Best view is in the gardens. Come along, немного подсолнечного."

Alfred frowned as he followed behind, munching occasionally on something from his basket. The pair made their way back to the castle and entered through the main hall. Alfred wasn't quite sure if he should trust a partially drunk Ivan to know where he was going, but he really had no idea how to get to the gardens, either. Several minutes and two familiar halls later, Alfred was ready to comment on how freakin' lost they were when Ivan took a quick right without warning. Alfred's sigh died on his lips when he stepped out into an enclosed area full of the scent of flowering life and full of cream-colored blooms. The sky above them was full of tiny, twinkling stars, and Alfred's face lit up when he spotted them.

A small thud snapped Alfred's attention to the ground where the Club King had seen fit to unceremoniously fall into a seat on the ground. Grinning, Ivan patted the grass next to him. Alfred shook his head, but sat down anyway. "What is that, anyway?" Alfred asked, pointing to the bottle of alcohol.

Ivan lifted it up and swirled the liquid inside with almost curious eyes. After a moment's inspection, offered it to Alfred with a mischievous smile, "You may try if you like. Is usually too strong for Spades people."

Alfred frowned and snatched the bottle away. He didn't even bother to inspect it before he turned it up and took a quick drink. Without warning, his esophagus decided to work against him and his penchant for proving Ivan wrong, and he coughed violently against his hand as he grimaced at the bottle. "That stuff's freakin' terrible!" he complained, "Are you tryin' to kill me or somethin'?"

To Alfred's surprise, Ivan chuckled, took the bottle back, and took a long drink as though it was just water, "Oh, no. You have figured out my evil plan. Would have been too easy to hire professional assassin. I thought it much more fun to kill you myself with vodka and hide body in the garden."

Alfred tried to gape—and managed to for a few seconds—before he frowned and snatched the bottle back. If the weirdo Club King could drink it, the King of Spades could, too. He tilted the bottle back, slightly more prepared for the burn this time. With a sigh that was a sad attempt at covering up another line of coughs, Alfred handed the bottle back with a proud grin (and _maybe_ just a _little_ wince), "Dude, you suck at this whole assassination thing, don't you?"

Ivan took his drink before handing it back to Alfred. He shrugged pleasantly, "Is what an assassin is for, da?"

Alfred rolled his eyes before he took his sip.

By the time the first _crack_ of the fireworks sounded, they pair of them had gone through the bottle. When Alfred told himself that he _wasn't_ slightly tipsy, a treacherous voice in the back of his mind told him that that was probably exactly what Arthur told himself after a couple of drinks. No matter how tipsy the weirdo Clubs drink made him, he couldn't tear his eyes off of the blooms of light the fireworks created. It was like watching the creation of another universe expand and burn out all in a matter of seconds.

He was so distracted by the lights flashing in the sky that he didn't realize that Ivan had moved until warm arms curled around his shoulders and a chin rested on his shoulder. Tensing up, the shorter blonde glanced to the side to find half-hooded violet eyes a little too close for comfort. "Uh…?" he started, but found himself unable to continue.

Those violet eyes slowly rolled back to the fireworks, and a softer version of his usual smile rested on his lips. "Is nice… having company," Ivan commented as though that explained everything.

Alfred made a small "meh" noise before turning back to the fireworks. Apparently heavy alcohol made him even less articulate than usual. "Just don't mess up my coat," he muttered, trying to brush off the fact that he was more comfortable than he would have liked to admit.

Ivan chuckled, and a dark pink tinted he Spade King's cheeks at the feel of warm breath so close to his neck, "Wouldn't want that, would we?" The pair fell silent as they watched the grand succession of explosions that signaled the eminent conclusion of the fireworks. Alfred did his best to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably. Between Gilbert's training taking up several hours of his precious sleep time, the alcohol, and the warmth, Alfred was practically asleep by the time the last explosion echoed through the night.

Ivan chuckled again and reached out to flick the stubborn cowlick that never failed to get some reaction from the shorter monarch. Sure enough, blue eyes snapped open, and the blush of red was back.

"C'mon, dude, that's not cool!" Alfred complained with a light slur, "What've you got against Nantucket?"

"Actually, I like it," Ivan corrected, "Is stubborn and strange. Very much like you."

Alfred blinked a few times before frowning, "Dude… I donno if that was supposed to be nice or mean, so gimme a minute to figure out if I should hit you or not." Reasoning was beginning to be a bit more difficult.

Ivan stood up, and Alfred very nearly complained about the sudden lack of warmth. A pale hand was extended to the shorter blonde who merely looked up at it for a minute. "Wouldn't want you to catch a cold and die before the Jokers arrive, da?" Ivan explained cheerfully.

Still, Alfred hesitated to stare. Against the backlighting of the partial moon, Ivan's platinum hair took on a shine almost as if it was glowing in places. Alfred had never noticed quite how well that pale hair went with violet eyes. If he'd been in a state to philosophize (Arthur would have snorted at the very thought), he would have guessed that there was something guarded but decidedly content in those violets along with something surprisingly lonely. Okay, so _maybe_—he made a note to delete the observation the moment he was sober—Ivan was a _little_ bit handsome.

The smile dropped just a hint, and Alfred's suspicions about the lonely look were all but confirmed, "I do not bite like rabid dog."

Alfred rolled his eyes with a grin slowly taking root on his face before he grabbed the offered hand. With a quick tug, he was on his feet (and, no, he did _not_ stumble just a little). He reached out and gently tugged at the pale scarf that never seemed to be absent from the Club King, "Know what? You're way too freakin' paranoid, dude. Loosen up a little, ya know. It's like I always tell Artie, if you still all stressed out and stuff, you'll probably end up havin' a heart attack of something in a couple of years. And, dude, let me just that you that I'm freakin' goin' home if you have a heart attack or somethin', so you oughta find a hobby or something 'cause—"

Well that was weird… Alfred's voice seemed to be muffled. He paused in his speech, his muddled brain trying to process what exactly the problem was. Blinking a few times, he first noticed that there was a pair of violet eyes way too close for casual conversation. The next realization was that his lips were oddly warm and that there was a large hand on either of his shoulders.

Oh, he was being kissed. Wait… He was being kissed? Did that even count as a hobby? _Well… wouldn't want the King of Clubs to die of a heart attack,_ he excused himself. Sapphire eyes closed, and sun-kissed hands made their way up to curl in the soft fabric of a pale scarf. That seemed to be all the encouragement that taller monarch needed. A pair of arms wrapped around Alfred's waste, and neither party bothered to care if someone happened to walk out into that particular section of the gardens. One thing was for sure, though: Alfred was _not_ telling Arthur about it in his letter.

* * *

><p>Gilbert frowned deeply from his place at Alfred's window. The little brat must have gone to the festival if he hadn't returned on time. Making a harsh 'tch' sound, he stood up and shook his head. They didn't have time for the kid to slack off. Still…<p>

The last festival he'd been to was almost five years ago. He grinned at the memory of a night of drunken revelry, convincing the King of Diamonds to dress a commoner to accompany himself and Antonio, and several well-executed pranks on one Jack of Clubs (although he almost cringed at the memory of the Queen's fryingpan flying at his face). Ah, the good days. In the spirit of nostalgia, he summoned up the Joker magic and vanished from the empty room only to reappear in a field full of marble stones and mounds of dirt. His feet lead him without much thought being in the action, and he almost wondered if there was something to the idea of a Joker being somehow tied to their own graves. He certainly had never seen where his was.

Sure enough, though, he eventually found himself staring down at his own name engraved in pale marble. He grinned as he looked up at the rather extravagant headstone. At least they got one thing right.

He was nearly to the point of commenting when he heard footsteps. Frowning, he stepped behind the marble, curious to see who would be in a graveyard during a time of festivities. He flipped his dark hood over his white hair to make sure that it wouldn't be seen and peaked carefully around the stone. The flash of glasses reflecting moonlight was his first hint, quickly followed by the outline of a brunette man. Pale brows knitted closer together. Why would the little aristocrat be out in the grave yard…? Surely Liz hadn't… No, Antonio had told him that none of the Clubs royalty had changed. So why…? That's when Gilbert caught sight of the little yellow blob perched inside a rather large yet still easily portable birdcage. A grin spread across Gilbert's features for a fraction of a second before it turned somewhat bitter. It was his grave Roderich was visiting, he deduced with an almost morbid curiosity.

As if he knew Gilbert was there, the Jack of Clubs held his face so that the reflected moonlight was the only thing Gilbert could see through his glasses. The frown on the brunette's lips, though, seemed a bit more sunken than usual. Sure enough, Roderich stopped in front of the marble tombstone that acted as shield for the Joker.

For a tense moment, everything was silent. Eventually, Roderich broke the silence, "This is your fault, you know."

Gilbert tilted his head from his hiding spot and frowned. What exactly was his fault…? Surely not the whole being-falsely-accused-of-betraying-the-country-and-dying thing.

"Elizabeta very nearly convinced me not to return here this year," Roderich commented as though clarifying Gilbert's question to some extent. So Roderich was mad about coming back. That didn't make much sense to Gilbert. How exactly was that his fault? "I have been taking care of your precious bird, though I am not sure if it is normal for them to last this long." Gilbert glanced at the small yellow bird perched on a small swing in its birdcage and couldn't stop his grin from returning.

For the most part, Roderich was fairly quiet after that. The bird chirped occasionally as if to cheer the Jack up, but he mostly ignored it. Roderich eventually sighed and pushed up his glasses before turning gracefully on heel as he started his way back. Gilbert frowned and acted on impulse (some of his finest moments had been based on an impulse after all—his instincts were that awesome). He tugged at the Joker magic and prepared it.

Seconds later, he reappeared just behind the Jack and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. The brunette immediately tensed up as though preparing for a fight. "Hey, specs," Gilbert started, nearly laughing when Roderich's movements came to a completely halt. He could see the rapid pulse beating the aristocrat's pale neck. "Depressed _und_ sad is a bad look for you. Did I ever tell you that?" He hadn't been expected the slender fingers of Roderich's free hand to reach up and curl in the fabric of Gilbert's sleeve as if to prove that it was real nor the faintest of tremors in the aristocrat's shoulders. Oddly enough, Roderich didn't move otherwise as though he seemed to think looking at Gilbert would dispel the phantom. "Tch. Poor specs. You really can't do anything vithout me, can you?" Gilbert sighed dramatically, "Guess I'll have to watch over you since you can't do it yourself. Oh! _Und_ Gilbird shouldn't be in a cage, specs; that's just mean. Anyvay, I've got to go; important ghost stuff to do, you know. See you around, little aristocrat."

With one more tug of magic, Gilbert vanished from Roderich to return to his previous hiding stop with a muffled snicker. He peaked back around the marble see Roderich whip around, wide violet eyes desperately searching through the darkness and moonlight. The albino's smile fell just a fraction. It wasn't quite as funny a sight as he thought it would be. His smile falling into a full frown, he summoned the Joker magic one more time with Antonio's ship in mind.

Later that night, he would silently curse Roderich for looking pathetic enough for Gilbert to take the extra time to pull of the ever present necklace he'd received from his _Vati_—and never really bothered to ask how he still had it as a Joker—and silently lay it in front of the marble slab where (if the aristocrat really wasn't blind as Gilbert often accused him of being) it would easily be found.

* * *

><p><strong>Meh… It's a little shorter than last time, but I'm going through a pretty busy school week. Besides, I kind of felt like that was a good place to cut this chapter off. I really enjoyed writing the last scene, but the festival was almost torturous. :P Anyway, along the way, I really wanted to do a PruAus oneshot that's connected with this story, but I also was thinking about doing a Finfem!Sweden oneshot that more than likely wouldn't have any connection to the cardverse. So… feel free to let me know if anybody would be interested in reading either of those. I'll probably put up a pole on my profile, so please do check it out if you're interested. ^^ Anyway, that you all for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed~<strong>


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